


I like the way your clothes smell

by Mysecretfanmoments



Series: iltwycs [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Caught in the Rain, Firsts, Fluff, Getting Together, Ghost Stories, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Scary Movies, Sharing a Bed, Teenage Awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/pseuds/Mysecretfanmoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Me gusta como huele tu ropa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524927) by [Noya4_JorgAlmighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noya4_JorgAlmighty/pseuds/Noya4_JorgAlmighty)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Мне нравится, как пахнет твоя одежда](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066226) by [Wintersnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintersnow/pseuds/Wintersnow)



> Leaving this story unrated because the ratings vary chapter-by-chapter from T to E. Any sexual content will be warned of in advance for people who would like to skip!
> 
> NOTE (2018/01/06) - This fic was written in 2014/5 before the manga was quite up to date with the end of season 2 of the anime. If you've watched at least s2 of the anime, you know more about characters and events than I did writing this fic, and won't encounter spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If horror stories scare you, ctrl+f to "Hinata moaned and threw" when Kageyama starts his story.

Tobio’s feet thumped the ground, splashing past puddles and gaps in the pavement, his shoes already soaked. A thud-thud from behind him told him Hinata was right on his heels, his bicycle rattling at his side. Tobio quickened his pace and heard Hinata yelling challenges as he fell behind.

 _Another win for me_.

He wasn’t sure where the finish line was, because they’d never raced _out_ of school before, but if Hinata fell too far behind Tobio would wait at the spot where their paths diverged, even with the rain pouring down, just to point out the win. He was drenched already; there was no harm in it.

A hurtling sound, more rattling, and then Hinata was sailing past him, having mounted his bicycle at a run. A flash of lightning illuminated the grey world around them—Tobio saw dripping orange hair, white teeth set in a wide grin—and then he was running after Hinata, calling for him to stop.

“You’ll get hit!” Tobio shouted. “Lightning hits the highest point, dumbass!”

“There are houses!” Hinata yelled back.

“We should find somewhere to wait!”

Hinata just pedaled faster, taunting him, and Tobio pushed himself to continue the headlong rush, hoping he wouldn’t slip and brain himself on the pavement.

“I mean it!” Tobio yelled, suddenly a little less concerned about winning. Hinata was short, but standing on his bicycle pedals he was a lot taller than Tobio. “What if it hits you on the way home?”

Hinata was drawing up to the street corner where their ways parted, finally slowing. He reached it first—bringing the score to sixty-three even—and stopped, dismounting and looking around at Tobio.

“Do you mean it? You think I’ll get hit?”

Tobio reached the street corner, stumbling into a crouch and breathing hard. “It’s possible. We should—go to my house.” Gasps and thunderclaps punctuated his words, and after a short moment Hinata nodded.

“The King’s house,” he sing-songed, and Tobio glared. “I wonder what it’s like?”

Hinata made it sound like they were strolling through a park, not standing in a deluge during a thunderstorm. Tobio grunted and started leading the way to his house, feeling a strange nervousness when Hinata began following him. He threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Keep up, okay? And no getting on your bicycle.”

Then they were running again, down deserted streets and through growing puddles, the iron-cast sky ominous over their heads. A flash from nearby made both of them jump, and thunder sounded mere seconds later.

“Did you hear that?” Hinata asked, his voice somewhere between wonder and fear.

“We’re almost there.”

They ran onto the tarmac of the street in front of Tobio’s house, and Tobio reached for Hinata’s bike. He maneuvered it through the gate and let Hinata lock it while he ran up to the front door, stabbing his key into the lock. The lock clicked open—and they were inside, dripping.

“I think there’s a dry spot on the small of my back,” Hinata said, shaking his arms as if it might cast the water off. “But other than that I’m soaked.”

Tobio fought a smile, watching water cascade off his volleyball partner, the normally gravity-defying hair slicked down against his skull. Tobio knew he looked no better; water had saturated his clothing down to his underwear, and he could feel the chill of the rain directly on his exercise-warm skin, leeching his heat. His eyebrows were dripping.

“I told you we should have gone back to the gym,” he said, though he was the one who’d run after Hinata after the challenge was issued. He _could_ have gone back by himself—but he hadn’t even considered that an option at the time. Chasing Hinata when he ran was habit by now.

“Come on,” he said, feeling that nervousness again. He hadn’t had a friend over since his first year in middle school—was there anything he was doing wrong? A glance at Hinata told him nothing; Hinata was looking about the hallway with an open mouth. Tobio took a breath.

“It’s nothing special,” he mumbled as he shucked his shoes. Hinata did the same, calling out a general _sorry for intruding_ that cut off when Tobio told him no one would be home yet.

“Your parents both work?” Hinata asked, bent over to take off his soaking-wet shoes.

“Yeah. Come on.”

Hinata stayed in the entryway, looking down the hall awkwardly. “I can’t. I’ll make everything wet.”

“I’ll put some towels down later. You need dry clothes.”

Hinata’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “They’ll be big.”

Tobio stared him down. “So? You want to stay wet?”

Hinata looked like he was about to argue, so Tobio reached out and squeezed some of that orange, plastered-down hair, causing cold rivulets of water to course down Hinata’s neck. Hinata flinched away with a shiver.

“You didn’t have to do that!” he said, glaring up at Tobio.

“Dry clothes?” Tobio asked innocently.

“Yes please,” Hinata mumbled, following Tobio into the house. Tobio picked up towels from the bathroom before leading Hinata into his bedroom, his stomach twisting a little at the thought of Hinata seeing the room he’d grown up in.

 _Stupid_ , Tobio thought to himself. _It’s not normal to be nervous about that._

And anyway, they were just changing. It wasn’t like Tobio was giving Hinata a grand tour of the house. They needed to be here because of unforeseen circumstances, nothing more; this point was driven home when Hinata groaned and started peeling off his jacket, followed by his shirt. He wadded them up and laid them by the door, starting to unbutton his trousers.

Tobio looked away. The sight of Hinata’s skin had been doing strange things to him lately; whenever they changed, he found his eyes drawn to Hinata, seeking out the downy hair at the base of his neck, the jut of his hips over his boxers, the muscles in his back and shoulders. The images stayed with Tobio longer than they should, popping up at odd moments. Hinata was his partner, and maybe his friend, but it made no sense for Tobio’s eyes to follow him so closely away from the court, or for his brain to stockpile images of him.

Was he collecting data for their matches? Tobio had thought so, at first—that it was normal to observe his valuable teammate, Karasuno’s not-so-secret weapon—but he never felt the need to watch Asahi or Tanaka off the court.

 _It’s because he’s useless on his own_ , Tobio had told himself time and again, but the assurance wasn’t quite true anymore. Hinata was getting better; he could work with other setters now, and shine. It didn’t make sense for Tobio to notice him more now than he did before, and he wondered what Hinata would think if he caught him at it. He made sure not to be caught looking.

He let his schoolbag drop against the floor—Hinata had discarded his in the entryway—and began wriggling out of his clothes. Hinata was already toweling off, and Tobio finished undressing down to his damp boxers, sitting down on the bed to run his towel over his damp arms and legs, then his hair. When he looked up Hinata was watching him, the towel creased in his hands.

“Um,” Hinata said quickly. “Clothes? To change into?”

“Right.” Tobio stepped to his closet, drawing out a pair of nondescript black boxers that would probably work just as well as volleyball shorts on Hinata. He tossed them over, and dug around for a long-sleeved shirt and sweat pants, throwing them in short order.

When he turned to ask Hinata if it was okay, the other boy was shimmying out of his underwear, his side turned to Tobio. Tobio gave himself whiplash looking away so fast.

“Tell me if you’re going to get naked!” he yelled at his closet, his cheeks flooding with color.

“What? You threw me boxers! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me not to look! Of course!” Unless it was normal to be naked in front of your friends? But surely that only happened in communal baths, when people already knew to look away—not in people’s rooms.

“I don’t have any parts you haven’t seen before,” Hinata said—which was true, unless Tobio’s mind placed extra value on those parts being Hinata’s.

Which it did. What was _wrong_ with him? Even now a part of him was disappointed that he hadn’t quite seen anything—that he still didn’t know whether the hair leading down from Hinata’s navel was the same ridiculous orange color as his head hair. Tobio was no genius off the volleyball court, but even he knew those thoughts had nothing to do with friendship.  

Tobio shook off his self-recriminations and changed out of his underwear under his towel—because that was polite, he told himself—then pulled on his change of clothes roughly, savoring the feel of dry clothes against his skin: sweats, a plain T-shirt. He should have picked out a sweater for himself, but he’d tossed Hinata his favorite and didn’t care to stand naked while he rooted around for another. Goosebumps stood out on his arms.

When he turned around Hinata was attempting to un-drown himself from Tobio’s shirt, his hands lost in the long sleeves. Tobio marched over and sought out Hinata’s hands in the tangles of cloth—his fingers were warm to the touch—and folded the familiar fabric back over them. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

Hinata bent to roll up the legs on the grey sweatpants, then straightened. “Yeah! Really warm.” He looked around at the room, noting volleyball posters and open floor, weights. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yeah—”

“I like it!”

Tobio pretended to check his hair, fighting embarrassment. “I’ll put your stuff in the drier.”

He hurried out to do just that, collecting Hinata’s sodden clothing on his way, but stopped when there was a flash of lightning accompanied by the lights in the apartment flickering off.

“…oh.”

Loud, running steps behind him, then: “Kageyama!”

Tobio turned, the barely-there light from the windows still enough to see by. Hinata stood crouched, excitement on his face. His hands were balled into fists, his feet set apart as if he was about to leap into the air.

“Ghost stories,” he said, in a tone of great reverence. “What do you say?”

 _Ghost stories?_ Tobio thought, not understanding at first. Then he imagined a contest of courage with Hinata, here in the dark with lightning flashing outside—and his body lit up, the way it always did when Hinata got that look in his eyes and directed it at him. It was instantaneous, a reflex, and he felt a grin splitting his face. Hinata’s wet clothes were forgotten; he tossed them on the drier and went in search of candles and matches, digging through kitchen drawers until he found them. Hinata dove onto the couch while Tobio set the candles up on the coffee table, his heart hammering with excitement.

He wasn’t even sure he _liked_ ghost stories; his much-older cousin had given him nightmares with the ghost story she had told, once, but he liked competing with Hinata, and scary stories were as good a way as any. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, folding his legs under him. The candles flickered, and a rumble of thunder sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.

“Okay,” Hinata said. “I’ll start.”

“Wait. How will we measure who won?”

Shining eyes narrowed in thought. “Whoever’s most scared loses. It’ll be obvious.”

“Are you sure?”

“We can take each other’s heart rates after the story?”

Said heart rate sped in Tobio’s chest. “I’m not sure that’s—”

“It’ll be fine! Okay, I’m starting.”

There was no time to argue. Tobio braced himself. He was still thinking about Hinata’s fingers under his jaw or on the inside of his wrist, taking his pulse, and hating how much the thought affected him. Why couldn’t he drool after Shimizu the way all the others did? Why was it _Hinata_ that made his heart speed up?

There was no point to liking a boy; not one like Hinata, who couldn’t utter complete sentences in front of Shimizu. Tobio knew that much, but his body refused to listen. It insisted on being a total idiot where Hinata was concerned, filling with warmth at the smallest things, unconsciously keeping track of Hinata like a flower turning to the sun, attuned to him at all times. It was infuriating, but he was getting used to it.

Presently, Hinata was sitting across from him, talking animatedly: “…so they decided to use the volleyball they found in the storage room, and it was really good! Their team won for the first time…”

Tobio made an effort to listen, ignoring Hinata’s left clavicle peeking out over the hem of his shirt. Hinata’s ghost story seemed to be about a haunted volleyball that granted an unnamed volleyball team special powers at a steep price; team members kept dying in volleyball-related accidents. Tobio had trouble keeping a straight face at times, and when Hinata finished his story—with an intrepid first-year confronting the volleyball in the storage room, and the power going out—the effort of fighting the smile became too much. He hid his mouth behind his hands, his laughter coming out in strangled gasps.

Hinata jumped on Tobio, moving his hands away from his face. “What? You’re scared, right?!”

“Dumbass Hinata! That wasn’t scary at all!” Tobio was obviously gasping with laughter, but Hinata decided it was an act. He put both his hands on Tobio’s neck, intent on finding his pulse, and Tobio tried to dislodge him.

“Hey, stop it—”

“Just hold still!”

Hinata had crawled into his lap, straddling him clumsily. Tobio acquiesced with the air of a frightened animal, all his laughter disappearing, and he closed his eyes tightly. _Don’t speed up_ , he commanded his heart, as if it would listen.

Hinata was heavier than he looked. He sat on Tobio’s crossed legs solidly for half a minute, his warmth pressing into Tobio, but eventually he crawled away disappointed.

“Fine,” he said. “I guess you’re not _that_ scared. Your turn.”

Tobio breathed a long sigh of relief. He wondered what would be worse: Hinata thinking that awful story had scared him or Hinata realizing the real reason for his increased heart rate. Both seemed equally mortifying.

He hummed and tried to recall the story his cousin had told him years ago. It had been about a girl and a little dog who slept under the girl’s bed at night. When she was scared, she would reach under the bed and the dog would lick her hand and she’d know everything was okay, even when there were scary sounds outside and reports about a suspicious man in the neighborhood.

Shivers ran through Tobio as he told the story, recalling his cousin’s hushed tones. He tried to emulate them, and he could see it was working. Hinata’s legs were drawn up with his arms wrapped around them, his eyes wide, a tremor in his fingers where they gripped his shins.

“And so—” how did the next part go again? “—the dog went missing, but the girl knew he’d come back. He always did. So that night she went to bed like usual, and when she woke up in the middle of the night after hearing something she stuck her hand under the bed, and felt her dog’s warm tongue on her fingers. She went back to sleep.”

Hinata’s eyes were wide, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. A clap of thunder made both of them jump.

“And then—then the next day, the girl got up, and she looked under her bed. But the dog wasn’t there. She was worried, but she thought maybe her mother had let the dog out. So she went to the fridge, and opened it—“

A flash of lightning reflected in Hinata’s eyes—

“And saw a tuft of grey hair, the same as her dog, and a note in unfamiliar writing: _Humans can lick too_. And suddenly, she felt a presence behind her… the end.”

Hinata moaned and threw himself down on the couch, his face pressing into the seat. Tobio didn’t give him time to recover; he placed his fingers in Hinata’s neck and counted beats: they were fast, like he’d been exercising.

“I win,” Tobio declared, drawing back. Hinata caught his wrists and held them, still facing down.

“I’m… kind of scared.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Hinata raised his head, showing a penitent expression. “I didn’t expect to actually get scared! Not like this.”

 _He’s so cute_ , Tobio thought, before coming to his senses. _No, annoying._

He looked at those regretful brown eyes again, large under mussed orange hair. _Okay, maybe both._

Hinata was still holding his wrists, and Tobio’s attempts to pull his hands back kept being thwarted by Hinata’s strong grip. “Let go,” Tobio said, an edge of apprehension in his voice.

 “Why?”

He mustered a glare, still trying to pull away. “Why not?”

“Because!” Hinata’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been weird lately.”

“No I haven’t!”

“Yes you have!”

Tobio stopped struggling, letting Hinata have his way. He sighed heavily. Had he been weird? On the inside, yes—but he thought he was hiding it. The dumb flutters he felt in his stomach didn’t show in his face, did they? What would he do if they _did_?

“How have I been weird?” he asked.

“Sometimes you flinch away when I touch you,” Hinata said. “And you don’t criticize me as much as you used to. And sometimes you get really quiet and you don’t get angry at all.”

“Stupid! That’s because you’re getting better.”

“Then what about the first thing?”

“I—I don’t know! Maybe you surprised me?”

Hinata glared, and finally he let go of one of Tobio’s wrists only to place his hand in the middle of Tobio’s chest, where his heart hammered. Tobio tried to back away, but he was already sitting up against the couch arm. “What are you doing?!”

Instead of answering, Hinata moved forward on his hands and knees, his face coming to rest an inch from Tobio’s, peering intently. He was so close Tobio could smell the faint scent of his skin—a scent that went straight through him, waking up parts of him that were better left sleeping.

“You’re scared of me,” Hinata said, sounding confused. “Why—”

“I’m not scared!”

Hinata grasped his chin and peered into his eyes, his other hand still over Tobio’s racing heart. He was so close—close enough to draw in and kiss. Tobio imagined Hinata falling into him, imagined pressing a kiss to the smooth skin that showed where the too-big sweater gapped. He bit back a groan.

Would this moment ever end? It had better—and so Tobio said the thing that was sure to make Hinata back up, words tumbling from his unwilling mouth: “It’s because I like you, dumbass.”

There was a pause, then: “I touch plenty people I like!”

 _Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass_ —“Not like that! It’s a different like, okay? Let go.”

Hinata stared. “Different like? Like—”

“Yes! Like that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay?”

Hinata’s eyebrows drew together in stark confusion. He drew back a bit, letting his hands fall so they rested on Tobio’s bent knees. Tobio managed not to flinch away. “But that would mean that you _wanted_ to touch me, not the opposite.”

Tobio glared at the wall, his face turned away from Hinata’s questioning gaze. “I _do_ want to touch you. That’s why I try not to. Happy?”

He could feel Hinata’s stare still boring into him, though he made sure not to face the other boy. He didn’t think Hinata would stop playing volleyball with him—that was beyond a worst case scenario—but what if this ruined the makings of their friendship, or rivalry, or whatever it was? He didn’t want to stop racing Hinata to the gym, or eating lunch together, or getting into shouting matches. He didn’t want Hinata to feel sorry for him or be cautious around him, but what other option was there? Hinata wasn’t subtle enough to just ignore it and move on, was he?

Unable to take the silence much longer, Tobio glanced at Hinata, and felt his face heat up.

“What?” he ground out. Hinata was staring; there was color flooding his cheeks, and his mouth was opening and closing.

“ _Me_?” Hinata asked, obviously still processing the reality of Tobio’s crush.

“It’s not on purpose! You think I wouldn’t rather be in love with Shimizu-senpai like you and the rest of the team?”

“Hey!” Hinata said. “I’m not in love with Shimizu-senpai! She’s just— _really_ pretty. Like, bwaaah!-pretty. She’s like a movie star.”

Tobio thought about it. He did think Shimizu was beautiful—but he found her relaxing to be around, unlike a certain orange-haired boy who embodied raw energy and never knew when to quit.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to be around that boy all the time, though.

“Anyway,” Tobio said. “Could you please just forget?” _I’ll get over it_ , he wanted to add, but he wasn’t sure that was true, not when they were still on the same side of the court. He’d feel it each time Hinata spiked one of his tosses—each time Hinata jumped on blind faith alone, the feeling would be there as strong as ever.

Or so it seemed, anyway. Tobio wasn’t sure.

He was about to say more when the power came back on, bathing them in yellow light. Tobio looked down at Hinata’s hands still resting on his knees, and Hinata retracted them slowly.

“Shouldn’t I give you an answer?” Hinata asked. “That was a confession, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t—you shouldn’t—it’s fine.” Tobio glared at a spot a little above Hinata’s head. “Sounds like the storm has passed. You could go home, if you wanted to.”

“I’m still wearing your clothes, though—”

“You can give them back whenever.” Tobio stood up. “Unless you plan on ignoring me…?”

“Ignore you?” Hinata stood up too. “Why—I wouldn’t! Never!”

That was comforting, at least. “Then you can leave; I’ll give you your wet clothes tomorrow. Do you need anything else?”

Tobio knew his words sounded clipped, but embarrassment made it impossible to pretend at a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. He’d just confessed to a boy—his _teammate_. It was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. The last thing their team needed was Hinata doubting him; he should have just wrestled Hinata off him—it wasn’t like he’d never wrestled him before—but the secret had wanted out, and found its own way.

A minute later Hinata was still looking sort of stunned as Tobio bustled him out the door, his color high. There were a million questions in Hinata’s eyes, and if he stayed longer Tobio knew those questions would erupt in an endless and unanswerable torrent. He was saving himself, and so he felt little guilt when Hinata stood outside the apartment with his mouth open and his schoolbag clutched in his hands.

“Bye,” Tobio said, and closed the door between them.

Leaned back against it.

Groaned loud and long, his hands clasped over his face.

What had he done?


	2. I like the way your clothes smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata tries to figure out his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the responses; you were way kinder and way more encouraging than I was expecting for such a "nothing" first chapter. ;A; *hugs you all* I know it was mean to leave it there, but I wanted to hurry myself along by feeling like getting the update out was urgent, and the "I already uploaded half of this and people might be waiting"-feeling is a good motivator. So thank you and sorry!
> 
> If you're uncomfortable with nsfw stuff: when you read "His heart was racing", ctrl+f to "on his way back to the bed"

Shouyou lay in bed in a daze, staring up at the dark ceiling. The rain had started again a little while ago, but it wasn’t lulling him to sleep like usual. His head was too full of the day’s revelation:

Kageyama liked him.

It was Shouyou’s first time being confessed to, and it hadn’t gone at all like it was supposed to. First of all, Kageyama was a guy, and second of all, Kageyama was his rival. His arch-rival—the guy he’d promised to beat no matter what, no matter when. How was he supposed to do that if they were being lovey-dovey all the time?

Mostly, though, it hadn’t even _felt_ like a confession. Kageyama had glared throughout the whole ordeal.

Shouyou turned onto his side, seeing Kageyama in his mind’s eye. He thought about Kageyama a lot—his perfect game sense, his form, his _tosses_ —but not in a romantic way, however much Shouyou’s stomach swooped when he remembered great plays they’d made together. Kageyama was Kageyama: king of the court, his arch-rival, the scariest player on Karasuno’s volleyball team. His smile could curdle milk and his dead-eyed glare could scare away evil spirits. But that wasn’t all there was to him where Shouyou was concerned; Kageyama was Shouyou’s partner in crime, and there was nothing more exhilarating than knowing that. No matter what Shouyou did, he had Kageyama—someone whose passion for volleyball matched his. Even when Kageyama was gloomy or scary or shouting at him, Shouyou wanted to be with him.

Was that love?

He tried thinking the kind of tender thoughts you were supposed to think about a lover, imagining Kageyama. He had nice legs, and big hands, good for handling a volleyball—no, wait. No volleyball thoughts. Shouyou tried again, imagining walking side-by-side with Kageyama. It was easy to imagine; they did it all the time. Holding hands, then. A flutter of embarrassment traveled through Shouyou. It was hard to imagine Kageyama holding hands with anyone. He imagined Kageyama's stone face, his strong grip, and it didn't paint a romantic picture but—the embarrassment heightened. For some reason, Shouyou kind of liked the idea of holding Kageyama's hand, seeing him like that. It would be strange, but maybe fun, too. Would Kageyama toss to him more if they were dating?

No, wait, that was another volleyball thought. He wasn’t allowed to start thinking volleyball thoughts or he’d never work out his feelings.

Shouyou thought about Shimizu-senpai and the way his thoughts turned around her sometimes, rosy with admiration, though she was always replaced with faceless girls from posters if he _actually_ imagined doing stuff. Could he think about Kageyama that way?

He remembered the fast beating of Kageyama’s heart under his palm, and how Kageyama’s face had flooded with color. Kageyama was solid all over—not soft in the places Shimizu-senpai was soft—but it still felt good to touch him. Shouyou imagined the scene from earlier, when he’d been on his knees in front of Kageyama, and imagined leaning forward to kiss him.

Embarrassment lanced through him, but he kept the scene in his head going. He imagined a hitch of breath, and then Kageyama’s lips pressing back against his. Shouyou wasn’t sure what kissing felt like, but he imagined it soft and warm, and then Kageyama was grabbing his collar and pulling him closer in that ruthless way of his so Shouyou was sitting on top of him. Shouyou's real body—the one lying in his dark bedroom—writhed in private embarrassment at even _picturing_ this, but somehow he wanted to keep the fantasy going—and so he did.

Kageyama’s strong fingers bunched in his collar, making heat curl low in Shouyou’s abdomen. The kiss broke, and then Kageyama was kissing his cheek, his jawline, his neck, and those fingers were sliding into Shouyou’s hair, gentle for once. Real-Shouyou braced himself, squeezed his eyes shut, and imagined fantasy-Shouyou tugging at the bottom of Kageyama’s T-shirt, sliding it up over his abs and chest. Kageyama raised his arms. The shirt was gone, and Shouyou’s memory supplied the mental image of Kageyama’s bare chest without prompting: smooth skin, hard muscle beneath. Never before had Shouyou thought past the fog of jealousy Kageyama's more volleyball-appropriate body inspired, and now that he did he noticed Kageyama's body was... nice. In that traditional, masculine sense. And it wanted  _Shouyou_ , of all people?

His heart was racing. Did Kageyama think of him like this, sometimes? Imagine clothes coming off, kissing? Grabbing at each other? Shouyou let the images play. Did Kageyama feel his body heat up, his dick growing hard at the thought of them together? A week ago that would have been an unthinkable idea, but now Kageyama had confessed to a crush it didn’t just seem thinkable, it seemed—probable. It was what people with crushes did.

And the fact of that set real-Shouyou’s hand wandering down to the waistband of his sleep shorts, slipping inside and finding his hardening length. Was he really going to do this?

 _No reason not to_ , Shouyou thought determinedly, telling himself not to be embarrassed. This was normal. People masturbated to each other all the time, didn’t they? With no one the wiser, too. He was just sorting out his feelings.

He turned onto his back, his fingers running tentatively up and down his length. Where was he? He’d just taken Kageyama’s shirt off, and he was straddling his teammate on the couch. He imagined a blush on Kageyama’s face as fantasy-Shouyou ran his hands over Kageyama’s bare chest—then Kageyama was surging forward, kissing him hungrily. He maneuvered them so Shouyou was lying on the seat of the couch, Kageyama hovering over him, and for a moment Shouyou wasn’t sure what ought to happen next.

Shyly, the real him licked a stripe up his hand and settled it back over his erection, imagining it was Kageyama’s hand touching him, Kageyama reaching down past the thatch of dark orange pubic hair to grip Shouyou's dick firmly in one hand. Fantasy-Shouyou was the one writhing with embarrassment now, and he imagined Kageyama growling something to him, telling him to stop moving.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama whispered, before his mouth met Shouyou’s once more, his hand moving up and down in a way that made pleasure arch through Shouyou’s body. He gasped and reached for Kageyama’s crotch, feeling the hardness there. Kageyama pushed into his hands, and that was the beginning of the end for Shouyou. He slipped his hand into Kageyama’s underwear and felt silky skin, hot to the touch. He wrapped his hand around Kageyama’s cock a moment later, and gasped when Kageyama’s hand tightened in response.

The fantasy got blurry as pleasure surged through Shouyou, his hand moving fast—and then he imagined Kageyama thrusting into his hand, gasping Shouyou’s name—his first name—as he came—and then Shouyou was coming, his mind blanking, words on his tongue, a jumble of _Kageyama_ and _Tobio_ and _yes_. He arched off the bed as cum spilled into his underwear. His breath came in gasps, aftershocks of pleasure running through his body, and then his blood rushed into his face.

“Holy shit,” he said to the empty room around him, face blazing. Had he really just done that?

Stickiness on his hand and inside his boxers told him he had. He got up and wiped himself off, finding new underwear, and on his way back to the bed he saw the clothes he’d borrowed from Kageyama lying on his dresser. His family didn’t own a drier, so Shouyou hadn’t washed them yet, and suddenly it seemed like the best idea in the world to grab the sweater he’d seen Kageyama in so often and take it with him to bed. He picked it up, feeling like a thief, and held the soft fabric to his face.

Mostly it smelled like Shouyou, because he’d ridden home in it, but it had been washed at Kageyama’s house and still carried the scent of the detergent his family used.  Shouyou hadn’t known how much he liked that smell until this moment, and when he got into bed he curled up around it.

He imagined he was lying next to Kageyama—maybe after what they’d just done in Shouyou’s mind—and found himself sighing. It wasn’t a bad fantasy at all, though real-life Kageyama would probably grumble at Shouyou constantly. The shirt couldn’t grumble, though, and Shouyou stuffed his face in it appreciatively, and dreamt of volleyball.

 

* * *

 

 

Shouyou woke feeling extremely embarrassed.

Yesterday, Kageyama had confessed under duress—and Shouyou had gone and fantasized about him in _that_ way, and—to add insult to injury—he’d drooled all over Kageyama’s favorite sweater.

Kageyama was going to kill him. Or rather, he would if he knew.

Shouyou chucked the clothes into the laundry basket before he could do any worse to them, and rode to school feeling like a felon awaiting a sentence. Would Kageyama be able to smell it on his skin, even though he’d showered? Was there some way to know, when people thought about you late at night in their beds?

He was so nervous about seeing Kageyama that he made it to the gym for early morning practice before noticing that he was alone, and that he’d walked up to the metal doors without anyone trying to outrun him. His stomach cramped with worry. What if Kageyama was avoiding him? But no—Kageyama had been worried _Shouyou_ would avoid him. So maybe he’d just slept late?

Shouyou shook off his uneasiness and gave his all during morning practice, even when Kageyama showed up five minutes late looking like he hadn’t slept at all. Aside from a blush and a weird fluttering feeling in his stomach, Shouyou was able to greet him normally—which confused the rest of the team.

They’d been expecting him to berate Kageyama for being late, he realized belatedly; this everything-is-normal pretense was not going well.

“Everything okay?” Daichi asked after practice, when everyone had left but Shouyou and Kageyama—a set-up that seemed suspicious, once Shouyou noticed it. He saw Kageyama give a tight nod, and Daichi turned to Shouyou with a questioning look.

 _What do I normally act like?_ Shouyou thought desperately, feeling like an alien trying to impersonate a human—which only made him question more of his actions. How did he place his feet? How did he hold his arms? Shouyou forced a short laugh and rubbed the back of his head self-consciously.

“Yes, captain!” he said, still wearing the false grin. He thought he heard Kageyama make a “tch” sound, but Daichi nodded.

“Less misses, next time,” he said. “We need you in top form for the spring tournament; you can’t half-ass a single practice. Got it?”

“Yes!” they said as one, and Shouyou felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. Their synchronization hadn’t changed, at least, and it must have comforted Daichi, too, because he sent them off without further comment.

 “What’s with you?” Kageyama asked as they trudged up the stairs to the clubroom. His eyes were narrowed, glaring at the ground.

“With me?” Shouyou asked, inwardly cringing at the way his voice rose in pitch. “Nothing! I just—I didn’t get a chance to wash your clothes, and, uh, I thought you might be angry…”

 _I’m a genius,_ Shouyou thought. Who knew lying came so easily to him?

Kageyama was less impressed with his excuse. One eyebrow was raised suspiciously. “Why would I be angry about that?”

“I-I don’t know! Maybe you thought I was doing weird things with them!” Wait, shit, why would Shouyou mention that himself? “Which I’m not! I wouldn’t!”

He ran into the clubroom before Kageyama’s dumbfounded expression could transform into anger—or worse, understanding—and changed with his back to the room. When he’d pulled his uniform on, he ran to class without speaking another word to Kageyama; by the time he fell into his seat, he was exhausted. How long could he keep this up? He was acting weird, he knew, and if Kageyama _couldn’t_ tell why, there was a strong possibility that Kageyama would think his confession was the cause.

Which… probably felt pretty horrible.

At lunch, Shouyou went by Kageyama’s class and saw him sitting eating at his desk. He waited in the doorway for Kageyama to notice him and join him in the usual place outside, where they sat on nice days, but Kageyama didn’t even look up.

“Kageyama,” Shouyou said, above the din of their classmates’ conversations. Finally Kageyama looked up. “Why are you eating in here?”

Kageyama looked at him in silence, seeming confused. Then he picked up his stuff and joined Shouyou at the door—the way he should have the moment lunch break began.

“I didn’t know…” Kageyama started as they walked down the hall, but he said the rest so quietly Shouyou didn’t hear him.

“Eh?”

“Dumbass! I didn’t know if you still wanted to eat lunch together! How was I supposed to know that?”

They strode out onto the grass and plopped down, both of them glaring. “You shouldn’t make stupid assumptions, that’s how!”

Kageyama grumbled something too quiet to catch, and this time Shouyou said nothing. They both sat back—it was a glorious day, the world wiped clean after the storm, the sun warm but not ungodly hot as it had been for the past week—and fell into a companionable silence. Relief swept through Shouyou as he ate his lunch, feeling like things were returning to normal.

Although—was that really what he wanted? It would be fine, sure, but what about last night?

“Oh,” Kageyama said, making him jump. Kageyama dug around in his schoolbag and took out a plastic bag with something dark inside. “Your clothes from yesterday.”

Shouyou took it from him. “Thanks,” he said. Out of curiosity, he held the bag up to his nose and smelled the contents. They smelled like the laundry detergent Kageyama used—the scent Shouyou had cuddled up to yesterday—and Shouyou felt his face heat up. Privately, he thought that he wouldn’t wash the T-shirt so it would keep that nice smell on it.

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asked, watching him incredulously.

He froze. “I, uh, just seeing if you’d washed it—”

“Of course I did, dumbass! Is this about yesterday? Because you don’t need to worry about that.”

Shouyou looked at the grass in front of him, then at the space where their knees almost touched. They always sat close like this, touching or almost-touching, and never further than that. Shouyou shrugged and pretended to stretch a little, letting his knee drop so it was actually touching Kageyama’s, the fabric of their uniform pants the only thing separating them. Kageyama looked at the point of contact in outright confusion, then swallowed.

“You don’t have to reassure me,” he began, and Shouyou cut him off.

“I like the way your clothes smell.”

“ _What_?”

“Just… something I noticed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kageyama asked. “What, you want to know what detergent my mother buys?”

“Idiot! I’m saying I like you!”

“That couldn’t be inferred at all!” Kageyama took a breath, looking like he was going to continue his tirade, then froze suddenly. “Wait. You like me?”

“Well—I hadn’t thought of it before yesterday, but I think… maybe?”

“Maybe? What does that mean? How can you maybe like someone?”

Shouyou blushed furiously. “It’s a new idea, okay? I’m getting used to it. But I thought about us being together, and I—I don’t hate it.” Kageyama’s color was rising now, too, so Shouyou blundered on. “I mean—I kind of like the idea. I’d be okay with it.”

“Stupid! I don’t want you to force yourself—”

“I said I like it!” Shouyou pulled at grass stems, then looked timidly up. “Is that okay?”

Kageyama looked away. “Y-yeah…”

“Good. So does that mean we’re dating?”

“If—if you want. Maybe—we shouldn’t tell the others? In case you change your mind?”

Shouyou nodded. “Okay. But I won’t. I don’t think so, anyway.”

Kageyama scoffed, though the blush on his face ruined it. “Says the guy who _maybe_ likes me.”

Shouyou thought back to last night, and how quickly his body had responded to the thought of Kageyama kissing him. It had felt better than imagining doing stuff with random girls from posters, and he’d wanted to snuggle with a random item of Kageyama’s clothing after. It didn’t feel very _maybe_ to him, but he wasn’t quite ready to declare it to the world either; Kageyama was still an annoying ass, after all, and his biggest rival.

Just—a rival he wouldn’t mind holding hands with, and kissing, and doing _that_ kind of thing with, maybe—some time in the future.

“You’ll see,” Shouyou said. Kageyama looked up at him.

“I’m not tossing to you any more than I do already, you know.”

“I know.”

A genuine smile tugged at Kageyama’s lips, and Shouyou stared at it in wonder. It wasn’t even a little bit creepy.

It was cute.


	3. Standard procedure

“What were you and Dad like when you first started dating?” Tobio asked his mother one evening over dinner, when it was just the two of them. His father was away on a business trip, and it had struck Tobio as a good time to ask.

His mother sat upright. Her eyes were wide, a smile beginning to form on her lips. “Are you dating someone?”

“No,” Tobio said quickly. He knew this conversation would take a very different turn if his mother found out he was in love with a boy. “But a lot of kids in school are. I just wondered.”

His mother smiled. “Well, your father and I were older when we started dating—we’d been with several different people before we even met, so you might say we were old hands at the whole thing.”

Tobio’s nose wrinkled.

“That’s the way it is for most people, you know. Your first love is rarely your last.”

And _now_ he wasn’t just feeling uncomfortable—he was fighting down a gnawing feeling in his stomach. It was absurd, he knew: a week ago it had seemed impossible that Hinata might ever return his not-teammately feelings—but the suggestion that the happiness he felt now could be so temporary nauseated him.

“So?” Tobio asked, to move her off the topic of relationships that ended. “What were you like?”

“Normal, I suppose. We went to the movies, talked about the future—but that’s adults dating.” His mother leaned forward, beginning to grin. “Do you want to know about my _first_ love?”

Tobio tried not to frown in distaste, but his mother’s laugh told him he’d failed. He didn’t want to hear about her first love because, one, it hadn’t been his dad, and, two, it would only emphasize the fact that most high school relationships ended. He was aware of that fact, had always known, but the thought made him feel empty. In the two days since Hinata had said those unthinkable words— _I like you_ —he’d felt like something had loosened up inside of him, and it made the whole world seem brighter.

Not that anything had changed, really. It was a private happiness, one he could hold close to him at night: _Hinata likes me_. He didn’t need anyone else to know.

“Can you explain in a non-disgusting way?” he asked. He didn’t know the first thing about dating, and their first two days of technically being in a relationship proved that. Were there things he was supposed to be doing for Hinata? Carrying his bag for him? No—that was stupid. Hinata was perfectly capable of carrying his own bag. So what _could_ Tobio do?

 _Nothing on the court_ , he thought. That was a line that couldn’t be crossed, and he hadn’t ever crossed it while fostering his crush; he wouldn’t worry about crossing it now. Maybe he could finally agree to help Hinata learn the jump serve in his free time, even though the thought made him gnash his teeth. _No,_ Tobio thought. _He needs to get better at the basic serve first._

This was why their first two days of dating had been virtually indistinguishable from the days that preceded them, except for a floating feeling in his stomach and a tendency to blush when Hinata met his eyes: he was bad at it.

“We did the regular stuff,” his mother said. “Chocolate on Valentine’s Day—presents on White Day—Christmas Eve together, going to the shrine at New Year’s. Long walks. We didn’t have enough money to go a lot of places, but it didn’t matter. Just being together was heaven.”

Tobio pressed his lips together. Walks? That would be fine, but—kind of normal.

His mother chuckled. “I even had one of his shirts. I used to sleep with it on my pillow.”

Heat flooded Tobio’s face, and he heard Hinata’s voice again: _I like the way your clothes smell_. Did that mean Hinata had—had done that? Was _that_ what he’d meant? The thought made Tobio want to douse his head in a bucket of cold water.

It also made him want to give Hinata every single item of clothing he owned.

“The important thing,” his mother said, “Is to only do the things you feel comfortable with. There’s no rush. Just because your classmates are having their first kisses doesn’t mean you have to. I know that’s hard to believe at your age—”

“I get the point,” he said quickly, before his mother could reassure him more. “I don’t—I’m not in any hurry—”

A thought flashed through his mind— _Hinata’s lips against his, their bodies pressed together_ —and Tobio forgot how he meant to end that sentence. It was a fantasy, not a memory, but it stole his breath anyway, and he shrugged helplessly as words failed him. His mother smiled.

“I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re asking me these things, Tobio.”

He looked up at her, surprised at how soft her voice had gone. She looked—relieved.

Oh. Because he’d been showing an interest in people. He ducked his head. _I’m not anti-social_ , he wanted to tell her. _I’m just bad at making friends_.

But that had to be just as depressing for a parent to hear, right?

 _It’s okay, though,_ he imagined himself saying. _Hinata is good at it._

No, no: _My boyfriend is good at it._

Tobio smiled down at the table, and the conversation ended there.

 

* * *

 

 

 _He was right_ , Tobio thought, holding his sweater up to his nose. Hinata had returned it yesterday, and Tobio had put it in his closet without much thought—only to pull it out again tonight. It smelled like Hinata, carrying the scent of his home. Tobio kept pressing it up to his face and inhaling deeply, as if it might magically conjure Hinata to his side.

Except it wouldn’t. Tobio collapsed back against the bed. It was Sunday, tomorrow was a day off, and there were no practice matches planned. The long weekend yawned out ahead of him emptily, utterly Hinata-less.

Not that it was unusual for him and Hinata to hang out on weekends—but it was always under the guise of volleyball practice. They didn’t go to each other’s houses, because they weren’t friends; they were rivals who happened to do everything together. Inviting each other over just to hang out would have been crossing a line.

Now it would cross a different line entirely.

He groaned into his sweatshirt, curling up around it, wondering how he was supposed to survive the weekend.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tobio?” his mother called from the door. “Someone is here to see you. From your club.”

Tobio’s heart started to race. He was standing half-dressed in his bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower, and he fought not to stumble out into the hallway bare chest and all in a mad dash to see who it was. The sweatshirt Hinata had borrowed lay on his bed, and he pulled it on as he ran for the door.

“Hinata,” he said breathlessly, when he saw who his mother was talking to. His morose mood from the morning all but disappeared. “You didn’t say—”

“Surprise!” Hinata said instead. He’d already taken his shoes off, and seemed to have charmed Tobio’s mother into letting him in. _Good thing I want him here_ , Tobio thought. Hinata was wearing capris and a striped T-shirt, looking like summer incarnate with his hair standing out at all angles.

“You were sighing a lot yesterday,” Hinata said. “I figured you were being a baby about having no practice matches this weekend, so—”

His mother laughed— _traitor_ —and turned to Tobio. “Oh my, he does know you well, hm?”

“Only because he’s the same,” Tobio mumbled. “Or worse.”

“Yeah, well, guess who talked Coach Ukai Senior into letting us use his court later?”

Tobio’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Hinata grinned.

Tobio grinned back, and strode forward to ruffle his hair. “Well done.”

It was only as he was drawing his hand back that he noticed the softness of Hinata’s hair against his palm, and at that same time Hinata noticed the sweater Tobio was wearing, and Tobio’s hand jerked back while Hinata’s cheeks reddened. The air seemed to rise in temperature between them.

“And—” Hinata said, glancing at Tobio’s mother, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag “—I brought my gaming system, so…”

“I _think_ ,” his mother declared, “That now is a good time for groceries.”

Hinata whooped and ran into the house. Tobio looked at his mother, worried she’d read the situation. “You don’t have to—”

She nudged him. “Have fun with your friend. It’s nice to meet one of your volleyball friends, finally. I thought you might be making them up.”

“N-no…”

She kissed his forehead, and fished her car keys out of the bowl by the door. A moment later she’d grabbed her purse and shopping bags and headed out the door. Tobio told his heart to quiet down before walking over to join Hinata in front of the TV, watching him take a familiar purple cube from his bag.

“My cousin had one of those.”

“It’s ancient, but I thought it would be fun.” Hinata looked up, a touch of color still evident in his cheeks. “Do you want to, though...?”

“Yes!” he nearly shouted. “Dumbass. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe you only like volleyball and kicking puppies.”

“I don’t—why do you think I like kicking puppies?!”

“I’m kidding, stupid. Help me plug this in.”

Tobio did as he was told, and when the system was plugged in he managed to raise his eyes to Hinata’s face. “Thank you for coming over today. And arranging things with Ukai Senior.”

Hinata’s head tilted to the side. “You sound like it was a favor I did you.”

Tobio shrugged, looking down.

“I wanted to spend today with you, you know. I thought about it all last night so when I woke up this morning I’d have a plan. I didn’t know if you wanted me going to your house, so I had to have a good excuse.”

“Why would you think that?” Tobio asked, taking the controller Hinata handed him. He walked around the table and sat on the couch, to one side. He expected Hinata to do the same, but instead Hinata sat down right next to him, on the center line, their knees touching. Something fluttered in his stomach.

“You chased me out last time, remember?”

“That was—I was embarrassed! Who wouldn’t be?”

Hinata nudged his knee. “Still.”

The GameCube logo appeared on the screen, the jingle sending Tobio back to childhood, and then Hinata was clicking through the start menus of a game Tobio hadn’t played before. “Smash Brothers?”

 “You’ve never played before?! I thought you said—”

“Just explain it. I’m sure I’ll catch on.”

Hinata dropped his own controller and snuck an arm under Tobio’s to grip his controller on both sides, his fingers positioning Tobio’s hands. For a long moment Tobio forgot how to breathe.

 _It’s just Hinata, you dumbass_ , he thought to himself. He and Hinata always touched—all the time, even when Tobio’s crush had made him feel guilty about it—but now it felt different. Hinata was aware of his crush, and there would be no getting away with a quick insult if Hinata asked him why he’d stiffened.

Then again, weren’t you supposed to enjoy it when your boyfriend touched you? Tobio looked down at the crown of Hinata’s head, his body warming. _Boyfriend_. It still seemed impossible.

“Oi, are you listening? A for normal attacks, using the analog stick for directions—” Hinata demonstrated, and Tobio made an effort to listen this time. _B for special attacks. Z for grabbing_. He wasn’t sure whether he’d remember it all, but he didn’t cut the explanation short; he could have sat there for a full day, with Hinata’s smaller hands wrapped around his own, and he would have been content.

“Okay! We’ll play teams, anyway, to start with. Since you haven’t played before.”

“Melee!” the game announced, and a character select menu came up. Hinata changed the teams and picked a pink blob for a character. “Kirby!” the game said cheerfully.

“Here, you pick Jigglypuff.”

“I pick—what?”

“The other pink one. Just trust me.”

Tobio did as he was told, glaring at the screen. Literally _every other character_ looked way fiercer than the one Hinata had told him to pick—even the black silhouette. He knew who Jigglypuff was, of course, but the pink blob didn’t seem like a match for giant monkeys and sword-wielding humans.

He stared at the controller trying to remember what did what, and then Hinata was done changing the settings. The game started: team red—Kirby and Jigglypuff—against blue Donkey Kong and Bowser.

“Why did you pick the big ones?!” Tobio yelled in indignation as the countdown started. His character stood on a floating platform above some sort of volcanic level.

“It doesn’t matter how big they are! It’ll be more fun this way—”

The game started, and Hinata’s excuses ended. Hinata’s avatar jumped about the screen much like Hinata did in real life, while Tobio tried not to get confused about who was who. He avoided lava and only jumped off the map once—and that was because he was trying to see how far his pink blob could fly. He thought he was getting the hang of it, slapping Donkey Kong around, when he jumped and executed a new attack.

And Jigglypuff fell asleep.

While the lava was rising.

“Why isn’t she moving?”

“That’s your special attack!”

“ _My special attack is falling asleep?!_ ”

“The timing matters—”

Tobio watched as orange-yellow lava crept up to burn him, his character bouncing around as she got burned. He let out a string of curses, trying not to get any more hurt than he was already getting. Hinata kept turning into blocks and knocking their opponents aside left and right, clearly dominating, while Tobio floundered.

“Why did I have to pick this one?!”

“It’s fun! I used to play this by myself sometimes, and I’d always be Kirby and I’d—um.”

“What?”

Hinata laughed self-consciously. “I’d pretend Jigglypuff was my girlfriend and I had to protect her. Because they look the same, right? They could be dating.”

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did Tobio couldn’t help laughing. “Dumbass,” he mumbled, resolving to play his decidedly not-fierce character a little less resentfully. _Dumbass Hinata_ , he thought, wondering why it felt like an endearment.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” He couldn’t say he was happy, though, because it was the stupidest reason to be happy and his stomach _definitely_ hadn’t fluttered.

They continued the battle without further conversation, Hinata’s whoops of victory rising over the background music. That game ended in their team winning, and they started another game with the same characters—by a large castle, this time.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hinata said.

“Hm?”

“You should grab them, and throw them at me. Like volleyball.”

Tobio snorted, but tried. They both lost a lot of health in the many failed attempts that followed—but eventually Jigglypuff managed to set Donkey Kong towards Kirby, which Kirby smashed solidly. Both of them gasped with laughter when it finally worked, though Tobio’s breathless laugh had more to do with Hinata’s battle cry.

“Again!” Hinata shouted. He alternated smashing with sucking the enemy in whole, and Tobio wasn’t sure which move made him laugh harder. His abs were beginning to ache.

Half an hour later, Tobio’s face hurt from smiling. They’d paused the game, and he was fetching them drinks. Hinata watched him, leaning over the back of the couch.

“Hey, Kageyama,” he said, and this time there was something careful in his tone. Tobio waited until he’d brought over their drinks before making a small listening sound.

“How does this work?” Hinata asked. He was sitting upright, one leg pulled up onto the couch to turn his body towards Tobio. “We’re both guys. Do you know…?”

Tobio looked down at the space between them. It was on this couch that Hinata had—unintentionally—wrung his confession from him, and everything else had been set into motion from there. Tobio was the one who had started it—but he had no idea what came next, or how they were supposed to date, or what it meant.

“I mean, does us both being guys mean one of us has to be the girl?” Hinata continued, his face scrunching in thought. Tobio stared. “Because I feel like it’d be me, because you’re taller, but I don’t really feel—”

“No! Of course not! We’re both—neither of us is the girl. It isn’t like that.”

“But what about…” Hinata’s face flushed, and his next word was so quiet it was barely audible. “…sex?”

Tobio’s hand reached of its own accord, finding Hinata’s crown and pushing down so the other boy was parallel with the couch, unable to see Tobio’s bright red face. “Dumbass!” Tobio choked out, his hand clutched over his nose and mouth as if it would hide the blush.

“What!” Hinata shouted, squirming against his hold. “I did research, okay, and in g-gay relationships—”

“ _Please stop talking!_ ”

Hinata’s shoulders sagged, but he acquiesced, and Tobio pulled his hand back slowly.

“I’m not saying I’m against it,” Hinata said in a sulky voice, before Tobio could throw a hand over his mouth. Tobio settled for glaring instead.

“Are you that impatient?” he asked, his heart hammering. _I don’t want to be bad at anything we do_ , he thought hopelessly. _I don’t want you to stop looking at me like that._

“Not—for it to happen, but—to know. How it would be.” Hinata moved so he was kneeling facing Tobio, his hands gesturing as if to emphasize his point. “Aren’t you?”

“I—I guess.” He rubbed a hand against his cheek, hoping he wasn’t blushing anymore. “But I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about. Especially not now. And—we’ll do whatever we want, when the time comes.”

Oh god, the flutters in his belly were going to make him sick. This conversation had to end, soon, but Hinata was frowning again.

“Okay, but who gets who chocolate on Valentine’s Day?”

“Whoever wants to, dumbass. I just said—”

“I want them.”

“What?”

“I want chocolates on Valentine’s Day. From you.”

Tobio gazed at Hinata in utter bafflement. “It’s _September_.”

“Are you saying you won’t?”

“I will, you idiot! If you want it that badly. Geez.” He looked away, knowing for _sure_ that the blush was back. He wasn’t prepared for Hinata to bounce over and nudge him, grinning.

“You will? Really?”

“Y-yes. If we’re still…”

“We will be,” Hinata said offhandedly, and Tobio looked up in wonder. How could he be so sure? Was it that blind faith again, that allowed him to swing with eyes closed when they first met?

Hinata seemed to notice the question in Tobio’s face, and he drew back a little. He was still so close—close enough for Tobio to smell his shampoo, and the warm scent of his skin. Everything about Hinata appealed to Tobio, these days—all the same things he’d hated when they met. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, except that maybe he’d never hated them.

“Kageyama?” Hinata asked. Tobio watched his lips form the name, barely hearing. Hinata’s hand was warm on his knee, and it was becoming hard to swallow—hard to breathe, even.

“What?” he mumbled dazedly.

“Why are you—looking—”

Was Tobio leaning in, or was Hinata? Hinata’s words cut off, warm breath gusting in the air between them, and Tobio felt his head tilting, his hand coming up to touch Hinata’s chin. Warmth swept through him, and then—

Awareness. He was trying to kiss Hinata, no preamble, no discussion—and suddenly his back was up against the couch arm, two feet of space between them.

Hinata stared.

“I thought you had food on your face,” Tobio said. His voice sounded breathless, even to him.

“You were going to kiss me.”

“Was not.” And he wasn’t—because he wasn’t sure how, and he didn’t want to be bad at it. He picked up his controller. “How long until we go to Ukai Senior’s?”

Hinata sighed, and scooted in close the way he’d been sitting while they were playing. Tobio closed his eyes, swallowing.

“Two hours,” Hinata said. “We should get food, before. I’ll be hungry otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Tobio said, still slightly dazed. “Of course.”

Hinata unmuted the TV, but before he unpaused he nudged Tobio.

“You were going to kiss me,” he said, his voice low.

“Was not,” Tobio mumbled, and he thought: _But I will._

_Soon, hopefully._


	4. Reluctant boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sugawara is either a dickhead or a loving senpai, depending on how much insight you think he has.

“Noya-senpai!” Shouyou called out, running over to him, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the hardwood floor of the gym. Kageyama tried to catch him and hold him back, but to no avail—Shouyou was faster, and on a mission.

“Yes?” Nishinoya said, a certain glow of pride about his aspect showing that he hadn’t missed the _senpai_ Shouyou had thrown in there. _Maybe he’ll get me ice cream after practice again_ , Shouyou thought.

“Do you and Asahi ever have sleepovers? Would you?”

Nishinoya stood stunned for a second before laughing and scratching the back of his head. “Sure!”

“So it isn’t weird to have a sleepover with a friend when you’re our age? Kageyama thinks it is.” He stalwartly ignored the push Kageyama gave him, keeping his attention on his upperclassman.

“Of course it’s not weird! One time, last year, the whole team even had a sleepover in the gym—”

“Sleepover in the gym?” someone asked sinisterly from behind Shouyou. Shouyou could feel Tanaka looming over him, and knew exactly what face he was making: the goofy one with the scary smile. “Is it that time of year again?”

Sugawara and Daichi stopped next to them, on their way to put the net away. “Sleepover?” Sugawara said, with a grin. “That _was_ fun.”

Daichi turned his withering glare on all of them. “Also _not_ sanctioned by the school. We could have gotten into so much trouble. It’s not happening while I’m captain.”

“What about doing it at one of our houses?” Sugawara asked.

“Where would we fit?” Daichi asked doubtfully.

“Well, we could—”

“Ennoshita-san!” Tanaka yelled, extending the _san_ as he ran over to their teammate. Sugawara shrugged and laughed, and he and Daichi moved off with knowing looks shared between them. Shouyou didn’t hear the rest of what Tanaka was saying, but he guessed Ennoshita had a large house—or laid-back parents. He blinked up at Kageyama, who blinked back at him.

“Did you mean for that to happen?” Kageyama asked.

Shouyou shook his head. What he’d wanted was to get Kageyama to agree to a sleepover with just him—but he didn’t exactly mind the thought of spending non-volleyball time with the team either, and this way Kageyama wouldn’t be able to refuse the way he’d been refusing Shouyou’s other suggestions lately. Shouyou smiled. Since it was a sleepover, maybe he’d be able to pretend he’d rolled into Kageyama’s futon by mistake.

His whole body lit up at the thought.

 

* * *

 

 

From: **Sawamura Daichi** (volley_of_fire@hmail.com) via lists.karasuno.edu

To: mvolley_all

Subject: **Get-together this Saturday**

_Hey all,_

_The final planning for this Saturday’s sleepover is done; Ennoshita and his parents have graciously allowed us the use of their house. Now, I know you’re all aware that Ennoshita’s parents will be gone this weekend. Do not for a moment think this means more freedom, because I will be watching you like a hawk the whole time. If any of you convince Asahi to get booze from the liquor store again, I_ will _throw you off the team. Asahi, if you let yourself be convinced, I will hound you for the rest of your life._

_Things to bring: futon or air mattress if you have one (need 6, e-mail if you are bringing one), sleeping bag, w/e you personally need for a night away, snacks to share, a movie you like, games, etc_

_I’ve attached a map to this e-mail. We will be meeting at 4 and eating at 6. We’ll go to the practice match on Sunday as a group directly from Ennoshita’s house so bring your gear. Lastly, please think of what you want to get out of this experience as a team, and I’m sure we’ll all have a good time._

_See you at practice,_

_Daichi_

 

Shouyou leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. _Think of what you want to get out of this experience as a team,_ Daichi had written. That would be hard; Shouyou’s mind had been especially one-tracked lately, and for once the main focus wasn’t volleyball. He and Kageyama had been dating for almost two weeks now, and he could only think of what he—Shouyou—wanted to get out of this experience as a person.

He wanted his first kiss, damn it. Kageyama was the one who'd made him think about these things, and it had opened up a whole new cabinet in his mind that seemed stuffed with images of just how cool Kageyama looked on the court, how nice his hands were, how his face could look intense at times instead of neutral and spacey. All sorts of things made Shouyou achey and needy now, in a whole new way, and it was Kageyama's fault, so Kageyama was the one who was meant to do something about it.

Wasn't he?

If he was, he was ignoring his duty. It made no sense, but Kageyama seemed to touch him _less_ now they were dating, especially when they were alone. Shouyou was always the one who sidled up close, and the few times he’d tried to initiate something Kageyama had somehow deflected it with gestures or contests or—once—by stuffing candy in his mouth.

Not that Shouyou wanted to kiss Kageyama if Kageyama didn’t want him to—but Shouyou knew he _did_. There was that time while they were playing Smash, when Kageyama’s fingers had touched his chin, his face inches from Shouyou’s, and there were all the other times Shouyou had caught him staring wistfully. There was something in the way Kageyama looked at him that just didn’t fit; he looked at Shouyou like he was far away, untouchable, whereas Shouyou’s body insisted it was _very_ touchable, and _would you please just touch me right now you are driving me insane_. When Shouyou had said something to that effect, Kageyama had gone red and excused himself, then avoided him in any private setting for two days. It had dissuaded Shouyou from bringing the subject up again in the time since, even though he was confused.

Kageyama felt the attraction too, didn’t he? That was how this whole thing had started: because physical closeness had begun to mean something different between the two of them. There was heat beneath Shouyou’s skin when he was near Kageyama, a heat that made his mouth dry up and his heart hammer. He kept noticing the smallest things, like the way Kageyama’s fingers looked wrapped around his juice box, or a pen, or chopsticks—how he could make any movement look graceful with those long, callused fingers—how much Shouyou wanted those hands on him. Whenever Kageyama’s shirt rose up during a toss and Shouyou saw skin he imagined it under his own palms, smooth and warm, shades darker than his own. Kageyama was still an ass and Shouyou’s greatest rival fifty percent of the time, but the other fifty he was either attractive in a way Shouyou was only just beginning to understand or uncharacteristically cute. Sometimes both.

Shouyou had a hard time figuring out what to do with himself at those times.

Meanwhile, the word _boyfriend_ still made Shouyou’s stomach flutter with nerves—because he’d never said it in reference to Kageyama, even though he’d thought it about a hundred times. As he sat in his own room two nights before the sleepover, here in front of his computer, he felt the presence of that word on the tip of his tongue, and suddenly there was a great urge to say it out loud.

Shouyou got up and tiptoed to the door, slid it open to see if anyone was there—no one was—then tiptoed over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, his hands clenched tightly together.

“Kageyama is my boyfriend,” he whispered to the empty room. He flushed, and his stomach felt like sunshine. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and repeated—louder this time—“Kageyama Tobio is my boyfriend.”

He spent the next five minutes with his face hidden in his pillow, until a text from Kageyama pulled him back into reality.

He still felt flushed.

 

* * *

 

 

Shouyou had expected Kageyama to be nervous about the sleepover, the way he was nervous about the two of them being alone together lately, but Saturday found Kageyama looking decidedly solid and not-jumpy, large as life in his house’s entryway after Shouyou knocked. He didn’t exactly smile when he saw Shouyou, because Kageyama’s forced smiles looked like they belonged to a serial killer, but there was a look about him that spelled joy nonetheless.

Ah—he wasn’t frowning. That was the look.

They marched out of Kageyama’s house side-by-side, both of them carrying multiple bags. Shouyou made sure to let his knuckles brush against Kageyama’s once as they walked, and was surprised when Kageyama responded by returning the subtle caress. When he glanced up at Kageyama, Kageyama was looking away with an air of embarrassment.

“Hey,” Shouyou said, bumping him. “Are you excited? Our first non-volleyball get-together.”

“That doesn’t really make it more attractive for me,” Kageyama said. “I like volleyball.”

“But we don’t get to play other games, usually, or watch movies. Do you think we’ll watch a scary one?”

Kageyama flinched a little. “Why do you sound so excited about that?”

“Another contest of courage,” Shouyou said, grinning. “I’ll win this time.” _And regardless of who loses, one of us is going to be clinging to the other_. It was the perfect excuse, and he knew Tanaka and Nishinoya would be game for watching a horror movie. He wondered if Asahi would survive the experience.

“I guess I’m happy about it,” Kageyama said, returning to the earlier topic. “I get to spend time with you without…” He trailed off, and Shouyou’s curiosity rose to critical levels.

“Without…?”

“Without nothing. Forget it.”

Shouyou frowned, hitching his bag up higher on his shoulder. Without what? Without volleyball? That didn’t make sense. Parental supervision, maybe? He had no idea.

“So you _do_ want to spend time with me?” Shouyou asked, to be sure.

Kageyama’s hand landed on his head, fingers tightening uncomfortably against his scalp. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to, dumbass.”

 _But I don’t know the answer_ , Shouyou thought, pouting. He was fairly sure, but now that Kageyama was avoiding one-on-one time with him he wasn’t sure. Maybe Kageyama was scared of physical intimacy after all? Shouyou wondered how he’d be able to deal with that, if it turned out to be true. He craved it in the same way he craved wins in volleyball: wholly and with unending dedication. But if Kageyama didn’t—

“Stop it,” Kageyama said, giving the back of his head a soft slap that ended up feeling suspiciously like a caress. “You’re getting worked up again.”

 _With good reason_ , Shouyou thought, but he made an effort to push his doubts down, increasing his pace. Kageyama adjusted smoothly.

Shouyou sped up again.

Kageyama did, too.

Five seconds later they were running full-tilt in the direction of Ennoshita’s house, and they didn’t stop until they fell onto the doorstep after a long and involuntary detour, panting and clutching their stitches.

Tsukishima laughed at them as he and Yamaguchi walked past them into the house, but Shouyou couldn’t stop grinning. If he had nothing else, he had this.

This was good.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m not sure about this,” Daichi said. The boys of the Karasuno volleyball team were huddled in front of a large-screen TV, sprawled on and around a large couch, and Daichi surveyed them like a concerned dad. “And it’s right after dinner, too. What if someone pukes?”

“Asahi!” Nishinoya yelled, despite the fact that he was sitting next to him. “Are you going to puke if you watch a scary movie after dinner?”

“N-no…”

“Hinata!” Nishinoya added, leaning over his shoulder. “What about you?”

“No!”

“See?” Nishinoya said, turning to Daichi. “All the likely candidates say they won’t puke. It’ll be fine.”

“It’s not like we haven’t handled Hinata’s puke before,” Tsukishima said. He was surprisingly invested in the whole horror movie idea, and Shouyou chalked it up to his sadistic nature. He probably enjoyed seeing people endure mortal fear.

Daichi consented, and everyone got into position. A few of the chairs from the dinner table had been brought over, but Shouyou was happy on the floor in front of the couch. He was leaning against Sugawara’s legs—his senpai had told him he could—and Kageyama had his back against the couch between Sugawara and Nishinoya.

Their shoulders were already touching, and when Shouyou threw Kageyama a smile Kageyama raised an eyebrow in response.

“First person to get scared loses,” Shouyou said in a hushed voice. Kageyama grunted his assent.

The movie started.

It was one of those vengeful spirit movies, about a photographer with one of those old-school cameras. Shouyou nearly lost the moment the first dark room scene started, when the main character was standing waiting for his pictures to develop. Everyone in the room jumped when Tanaka told them to look at one of the pictures, his voice somewhere between excitement and fear.

A ghostly lady could be seen in a window. Shouyou shivered.

It was strange, watching a scary movie with so many people. All the scary scenes were softened by the background noise of people eating popcorn or shifting, the whispers of his teammates and the answering chuckles. No one talked through the whole thing, but there was a comforting feeling that made the terror he felt fun rather than awful.

Shouyou was scared, but he felt very safe—part of a team. He liked watching scary movies like this.

His placid mood changed when the movie’s action hyped up. A rattling doorknob, a person without a face—he felt himself reaching, and Kageyama caught his hand almost immediately. Kageyama’s palm was sweaty, but Shouyou held on tight.

Did this mean they both lost?

There was no time to wonder as the movie devolved into terror after terror. When he glanced around the room he saw that _everyone_ was clutching someone—sometimes several someones—and Yamaguchi had his hand over his face, peeking through his fingers. Tanaka and Nishinoya tried to crack jokes to loosen the tension, both of them seemingly aware of a deathly pale Asahi between them, but when Tanaka’s false bravado cut off into a scream at a particularly bad scene they gave up.

Shouyou had screamed, too, and he’d thought he heard a moan of _why_ come from Kageyama at a different scary bit. His hand was going numb from Kageyama’s strong grip.

They suffered through the rest of the movie, Shouyou hiding his face in Kageyama’s shoulder when he couldn’t bear to look—which was often—and when the movie finally ended a collective sigh of relief went through the room.

“That was _awesome_!” Nishinoya declared. “I was terrified!”

“What is _wrong_ with him?” Shouyou hear Tsukishima mumble to Yamaguchi. Privately, he agreed; he hadn’t been able to enjoy curling into Kageyama at the end because he was too terrified. He’d be avoiding mirrors from now on.

Ennoshita flicked on the lights, and the air of terror dissipated a little. Kageyama’s hand loosened from around Shouyou’s, and Shouyou flexed his crushed appendage before trying to rub some feeling back into it. Kageyama mumbled an apology when he saw what Shouyou was doing, and Shouyou deflected it.

“’s fine,” he said, a little embarrassed. They’d held hands almost the whole movie, and it had felt like the most normal thing in the world. He looked around at his teammates, all chatting softly. “So—I’m guessing I lost?”

“It was a draw,” Kageyama said.

“How? No matter how you look at it—”

“Draw,” Kageyama said again. “I closed my eyes a lot.”

“Oh—okay.”

A moment later Daichi clapped, and everyone sat up, conversations ending. He stood with his hands on his hips, waiting for the rustling in the room to stop, then took a large breath—his trademark breath before a speech.

“It’s not bedtime yet, but I’d like to figure out sleeping places before all of you are too tired to move.” Hinata felt his stomach twist with nerves, hoping he’d manage to sneak a place next to Kageyama. Daichi continued. “I said in the e-mail that we needed six extra futons, but between the twelve of us we only have four. So we’re doubling up in the real beds, a bit.”

Shouyou’s breath caught. There were only two beds in the house: Ennoshita’s single bed and his parents’ bed. Could he snag one for him and Kageyama?

“Asahi, Nishinoya and Tanaka have graciously offered to take the big bed,” Daichi said, and a chorus of boos sounded around the room. Three to a two-person bed wasn’t a sacrifice—it would be a lot more comfortable than an air mattress. “But the two people sharing Ennoshita’s bed will have to cuddle up more, so—”

“Shouldn’t Ennoshita-san be allowed to sleep in his own bed?” Yamaguchi asked. Shouyou tried not to glare at him.

“No offence,” Ennoshita said, “But there is no one in this room I’d like to share a one-person bed with, thanks very much.”

There were a few snorts in response to that, and Daichi cleared his throat. “ _So_ , we thought we’d make our beloved kouhai draw straws for it, so to speak, since us second and third years have earned our place in this world through blood and sweat, and need our space.”

“Fine,” Tsukishima said, his voice bored. “So how do we decide, then?”

Sugawara stepped up. “I’ve got a popcorn kernel in one of my hands. You have to guess which one. Whoever doesn’t get it right has to share the bed with another first-year. Hinata, you guess first.”

He held his fists out to Shouyou, whose eyes went from one to the other. Which hand was it? He needed to guess wrong, but—

Something drew his eyes up to meet Sugawara’s. The older boy’s gaze flicked down to his left fist, then back up to Shouyou’s face, clearly encouraging him to guess the left one. Except—was Sugawara trying to help him win, or lose? He peered at Sugawara’s smile, sweet as always—and picked left, hoping Sugawara had anticipated his feelings.

Sugawara’s smile widened into a toothy grin, and he opened up his left hand: nothing. Shouyou’s teammates laughed, and Tanaka clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Open the other one,” Kageyama said. He sounded almost panicked, and his mouth was tight as he watched Sugawara uncurl his other hand—revealing an unpopped kernel. Kageyama seemed to deflate.

“So?” Sugawara asked, his voice innocent even as his eyes twinkled. “Who are you sharing with, Hinata?”

Shouyou shot his ankle out to bump against Kageyama’s. “Kageyama, of course.”

“Of course?” Tanaka said, frowning. “No matter how you look at it, Yamaguchi is the most obvious choice.”

Yamaguchi jumped. “Wh-what?!”

“Well, you’re the least scary, and you have the longest hair,” Tanaka said. He made it sound like it was a no-brainer. _Longest hair?_ Shouyou thought, confused, until the look on Kageyama’s face distracted him. Tanaka continued to explain, but Shouyou was no longer listening. As the discussion drew the attention away from him and Kageyama, he tried to get Kageyama to look at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Kageyama didn’t respond.

“You’re not allowed to be angry.  I couldn’t pick anyone else.”

Kageyama looked up. He didn’t look angry, on closer inspection—he looked embarrassed. “I could sleep on the floor…”

“No! Why?” _Why are you avoiding me?_

Unlike the others, Sugawara seemed to still have his attention on them, and he nudged Kageyama’s shoulder. “We don’t want either of our genius duo waking up with back aches tomorrow. Remember we have that practice match tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sugawara-san—” Kageyama began, but Sugawara shook his head.

“No buts. And it’s not time for bed yet. Let’s enjoy the rest of our evening, okay?”

Kageyama nodded, and that was the end of the discussion.

 

* * *

 

 

Ennoshita’s room was small.

It was small, but it was big enough for a bed and two air mattresses, and therefore it was big enough to house all the first years for a night. Shouyou had been nervous about sharing a bed with Kageyama, especially when he was being so strange, but sharing a bed with Kageyama while Tsukishima was around to throw mean comments at them was so much worse.

He’d hoped his nervousness would die down as he got sleepy, but two hours after midnight found him shifting restlessly in the bed, trying to find a position that didn’t result in knees and elbows digging into either of them. It was harder than he’d expected.

“Stop moving,” Kageyama said, not opening his eyes. He was on his side, his back pressed up against the wall. It was obvious he was giving Shouyou the lion’s share of bedspace, but there wasn’t much bedspace to begin with.

“I can’t help it,” Shouyou whined. If he faced Kageyama, all he ended up breathing was his boyfriend’s exhales, which was not as romantic as it sounded. If he faced the other way, he was in limbo between falling off the bed and Kageyama’s elbows digging into his back. “There’s no space.”

“I’m giving you as much space as I can—” Kageyama said, annoyance edging his voice, and there was a groan from the floor where Tsukishima and Yamaguchi lay.

“You have to cuddle, you idiots. Pretend you’re playing sardines or something.”

Kageyama growled in response, but Shouyou didn’t mind the suggestion. It was what he _wanted_ to be doing, after all. Taking Tsukishima’s comment as permission, he sat up and changed how Kageyama was laying, pushing his lower arm under the pillow and lifting the other before sliding himself down between them, facing away. He drew Kageyama’s arm over himself and tugged the sheet back over the two of them.

“This okay?” he asked. Kageyama was curled around him now, his heat pressing into Shouyou’s back, a thousand different points of contact making Shouyou’s heart hammer.

“Yeah,” Kageyama said, so softly that Shouyou might have mistaken it for a sigh if his every sense hadn’t been attuned to Kageyama already. He felt an unfamiliar wave of gratitude towards Tsukishima.

For a little while, Shouyou managed to stay still, his mind completely taken up by all the places where his body was pressed against Kageyama, but it was impossible to contemplate _that_ for long without craving more.

He backed up a little, adjusting as he did so.

“Stop moving,” Kageyama said, a snap to his voice. Shouyou tried to, but the waistband of his shorts was uncomfortable under his hip now, and he had to lift it a little, and adjust—

Kageyama scooted back an inch, and Hinata followed him. “Stop it!” Kageyama hissed.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable—”

Tsukishima groaned. “Gross. Hinata, stop giving the king a royal boner, would you? Just lie still.”

There was a snigger from Yamaguchi. Tsukishima had probably meant to make Shouyou feel embarrassed, but all Shouyou could think was, _Is that really what’s happening?_

Kageyama didn’t say anything, which made Shouyou think that maybe it was. Why didn’t he deny it, otherwise?

A wave of heat went through Shouyou’s body, arousal mixing with awkwardness at the thought of causing something like that in Kageyama. Curiosity made him back up again, so their bodies were flush, and he felt Kageyama hide his face in the pillow behind him.

Nerves fluttered in Shouyou’s stomach. _Could_ he feel something? It was hard to tell between his own sleep shorts and Kageyama’s pajama pants—dark blue plaid, which was somehow unexpected and therefore endearing—and so he moved just a little, to see what moved and what didn’t.

Heat flooded his cheeks a moment later. That was definitely something; Tsukishima hadn’t been kidding, or if he had he’d hit on the truth by accident.

 _Holy crap_. Arousal coiled in Shouyou’s lower abdomen. Kageyama was turned on. _Kageyama was turned on_. He wasn’t avoiding Shouyou because he wasn’t attracted to him anymore. Was this why he’d offered to sleep on the floor? Because he’d been afraid this would happen?

Shouyou had to stop himself from responding in some way, even though he wanted to. He wanted to wiggle more, and see what happened. He wanted to run to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. He wanted to turn over and finally claim Kageyama’s first kiss, and see where things went from there. If they were alone, he might have done any number of things—but they weren’t.

He waited, completely still, wishing for Tsukishima and Yamaguchi to fall asleep. He noted their breathing, and when it changed. Once he was sure they were asleep—really sure—he caught Kageyama’s hand and pressed a kiss to it.

Kageyama stiffened. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Shouyou turned at long last, so they were facing each other. There was enough light from outside to see by, just, though Kageyama’s face was cast in black and grey.

“I was worried,” Shouyou whispered back. “I thought maybe… you didn’t like me anymore. Or not like _that_.”

Kageyama hid his face behind his hands. “You felt..?”

What was Shouyou supposed to say to that? _It’s okay_ sounded like it was something Kageyama ought to feel guilty for; _I liked it_ made him sound like a pervert. “I don’t, um—I’m the same. With you. I’m just happy you still like me.”

“I like you too much,” Kageyama said. He was quiet for a long time, listening to the others’ breathing, then added: “I’m always worried I’ll do something you don’t like.”

“That’s stupid,” Shouyou told him soundly. “I want you to do things. A _lot_.”

There was another long silence, and Shouyou got the distinct impression that Kageyama wanted to make absolutely certain no one was listening in. When he spoke, his voice was even quieter than it had been, barely audible at all. He even lifted his head to speak directly into Shouyou's ear, his lips and his breath conjuring shivers.

“I read things. About two guys being in a relationship. And—one of them would always lose control and hurt the other one. There was crying—I don’t want that—”

Shouyou bent forward suddenly, hiding his face in Kageyama’s chest. He wasn’t sure if he was amused or mortified, since he was pretty sure he knew what Kageyama had been reading—he’d found that kind of stuff in his searches, too. “ _That’s_ why you won’t be alone with me?”

“It looks _really_ painful—I don’t understand—”

There was a rustle of sheets from the floor, and both of them went completely still—but it was only someone moving in their sleep, and there were still two distinct patterns of sleep-heavy breathing.

Shouyou drew back a bit, keen on continuing the conversation. “That stuff is—what do you call it? Drama’d up? I don’t think it’s like that for real. Touching me won’t turn you into someone else. _You_ were the one who said we shouldn’t worry about that stuff yet.” He was pouting now, he knew.

Kageyama huffed a breath. “That was before I looked online. I don’t want to be like that. If that’s what happens—”

Shouyou grabbed Kageyama’s hand and slid it under his T-shirt, over his hip. Kageyama seemed to stop breathing entirely.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you. Do you think you’d hurt me now?”

“No…”

Shouyou scooted closer. He let go of Kageyama’s hand, but Kageyama didn’t move it—it was still over his hip, long fingers stretching towards his back. It made it very hard to think about anything other than closing the last bit of distance between them. “And now?” Shouyou whispered.

Kageyama shook his head. They were breathing the same air again, almost nose-to-nose, but it wasn’t a big deal this time. Shouyou wasn’t trying to sleep, after all. He slid his fingers along Kageyama’s jaw, waiting for him to move away or stop him, but Kageyama didn’t move a muscle, his breaths shallow and infrequent.

 _Now or never_ , Shouyou thought. He tilted his head slightly and planted a kiss on Kageyama’s mouth, his breath held. He blushed when he felt the corner of Kageyama’s mouth against his lips—he’d been aiming to hit it squarely.

A moment later the hand on his hip slid up to his back, and he felt Kageyama’s mouth against his—not off-center this time. Kageyama’s aim had always been better than his, he thought distantly as he melted into the touch. His stomach was a mass of butterflies, his whole body seeming lit from within, and he wished he knew how to do this better. He wanted this kiss to last forever—but there was more to kissing than pressing mouths together, right?

He brushed his lips along Kageyama’s, nudged at his bottom lip. Kageyama reciprocated the movement, and in a flash of inspiration—or foolhardiness—Shouyou darted his tongue out, touching the seam of Kageyama’s lips gently before he pressed in with another kiss. He swallowed Kageyama’s small gasp of surprise, letting his fingers caress the soft hair at the back of his neck. Shouyou’s knees weakened when Kageyama caught his bottom lip between his and let his tongue sweep over it. Kageyama tasted like toothpaste and warmth, if warmth had a flavor.

Shouyou felt curiously boneless when they each drew back. Kageyama drew his hand back from under Shouyou’s shirt, and the absence of touch left a cold spot that made Shouyou shiver even as Kageyama tugged the shirt back down. He could feel Kageyama’s hand trembling.

 _I want to touch him too_ , Shouyou thought, thinking of sliding a hand underneath Kageyama’s shirt—but he didn’t really want Tsukishima or Yamaguchi to wake up and catch them at something. He imagined pressing kisses to Kageyama’s flat stomach and shivered again.

“Are you cold?” Kageyama whispered.

“No. Um.” _Aroused_. “I’m fine.”

The long silence asked, _are you sure?_ but Shouyou didn’t change his answer.

“Hey,” Kageyama said. “Switch places with me. I want to lie on my other side.”

“Why? You think I can’t be big spoon because of my height?”

“That wasn’t—”

Kageyama’s voice had gotten louder, and a restless movement from one of the sleepers made him shut up. He turned wordlessly, sending a glare over his shoulder.

“I—I need a minute,” Shouyou said. If he held Kageyama now, he’d be in the same predicament Kageyama was in earlier. Kageyama growled, though, obviously displeased, and somehow he managed to wrench Shouyou forward by his arm while backing up into him until their bodies were pressed together. Thankfully the difference in height meant Shouyou’s hips were drawn back a bit, saving him embarrassment.

“Hey,” Shouyou said, after a long period of silence. “I liked that. A lot.”

Kageyama adjusted just a little. “Me too.”

“A lot?”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

Kageyama sighed. “Dumbass. I’d-still-be-doing-it-if-we-were-alone-in-here much. Satisfied?”

Shouyou’s cheeks warmed, and he nuzzled into the back of Kageyama’s head.

“For now.”


	5. A good senpai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex ed from senpai. Will Kageyama and Hinata live through the embarrassment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had a chance to respond to all the beautiful reviews I got last chapter, but please trust that they brightened my week and made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You guys are the best. What /also/ made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world is the beautiful fanart that people drew of this fic:
> 
> http://arurerutos.tumblr.com/post/94653056185/they-were-breathing-the-same-air-again-almost (the scene from last chapter where they kiss, illustrated by tumblr user arurerutos/momotaarou)
> 
> http://rukiscroax.tumblr.com/post/95044983963/this-isnt-a-re-post-its-a-fix-for-the-old (the scene from chapter 2 where Hinata fantasizes, illustrated by tumblr user Rukiscroax--a little nsfw given the scene!)
> 
> Needless to say I'm super motivated. Furthermore, today's main scene was inspired by a kind anon who sent me a prompt on tumblr. Have I mentioned how much I love this fandom? All of you people? Thank you for being as great as you are. I'll try to write the next chapter as soon as I can!

“I’m going to frame it,” someone said, voice fond. Tobio squeezed his eyes shut tightly, sleep still tugged thickly around him.

“Suga-san, that’s weird. That’s a really weird thing to say. You’re supposed to blackmail them with it or something.”

“You’re not a third year yet, Nishinoya-kun. You wouldn’t understand these feelings—”

There was another noise, like a phone camera clicking, and Tobio sighed as he was pulled out of sleep more firmly. He was lying on his back, his arm numb, and—

And Hinata was draped over his right side.

He shot upright in bed, dragging a sleepy Hinata with him. He could already feel his face going red as he looked up at his senpais grinning down at them, Tsukishima standing by the door with a smirk.

Of course he was the one who’d brought the upperclassmen in to see Tobio in a weak moment. Tobio fixed his attention on his tall classmate, glaring, but Hinata spoke before he could.

“Wha’s—why’d you—why’s everyone in here?”

Hinata blinked at everyone sleepily, and immediately Tobio’s attention turned to him. Affection softened his glare, and he swallowed hard as he remembered the events of last night—his own reaction to the cuddling, and what happened after. His hand tingled with remembered warmth from Hinata’s skin, his mind turning to the way Hinata had sighed against his lips. _My first kiss_.

Now wasn’t the time to sit here reminiscing, though—not when his sleep-numbed mind had finally sorted out what the conversation had been about when they woke. He stared at Sugawara accusingly.

“I’m not deleting it,” Sugawara said quickly. “You look like angels.”

“A mother’s love really is blind,” Tsukishima mumbled, and there was a wave of chuckles in response.  Sugawara laughed out loud.

Tobio covered his face with his hand. “The bed is really tiny—we had to—”

“Deleting what?” Hinata asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked at the people watching, and Tobio swore he could see them melt—or maybe he was projecting. Hinata’s bed hair combined with his heavy-lidded eyes could fell millions. Tobio had always been weak to it, even before he started suspecting that his feelings for Hinata weren’t just about volleyball. Back then it always made him want to hit things.

“Morning, Cuddles,” Tanaka said, grinning. “Joined the world of the living at last. You were snuggling our setter here pretty hard and Sugawara took a picture. Well, several. About ten.”

“Who knew the king knew how to share?” Tsukishima said. “I thought you’d toss him out when he was moving around so much last night—Yamaguchi was braced for it and everything—”

“Kageyama wouldn’t do that,” Hinata said, looking a little brighter. He was scratching at an itch under his shirt, and the strip of skin the movement revealed made words lie flat on Tobio’s tongue. What was he about to say again? Ah—right.

“I’ve already done that,” he said. “Remember when you rolled into my futon that time?”

“Oh, well, that was different—”

Tobio held his breath, worried that Hinata was going to say _why_ it was different, but Daichi saved them.

“You should get dressed,” he told them in his captain’s voice. “Both of you. We’re leaving for the practice match in an hour, and we have to eat breakfast and clean up the house first. Think you can manage?”

They nodded as one, and as they were swept up in the morning bustle Tobio had only two thoughts in his mind:

One, how he could convince Sugawara to delete those photos, and two, whether he would get to kiss Hinata again soon.

He was more than a little hopeful.

 

* * *

 

 

It was possible to survive on small touches.

There was the court, of course, where they were connected in a way no kiss could replicate: the arc of his toss, the slap of Hinata’s hand against the ball—the way Hinata flew and Tobio felt like he could watch and watch forever, a strange lightness in his chest. There was wrestling to get into the gym first, which felt more like an excuse to touch these days rather than an actual contest—and there was walking home together, with tension and new awareness thick in the air between them, their hands bumping as they walked.

It was intoxicating, but it wasn’t Hinata’s skin against his, Hinata’s mouth on his own, and Tobio’s imagination was working overtime. At night, he imagined Hinata next to him. In class, he was more aware of the fact that Hinata was two classrooms away than whatever it said on the chalkboard. The only time he felt like his old self was when Hinata was there.

Was love supposed to feel like an obsession? Or was Tobio too intense in that department, too?

“Hinata-kun?” Sugawara called, after practice on Wednesday. “Can I speak to you, please?”

Tobio stopped walking to the exit, looking out at the darkening sky before turning to Hinata and meeting his cautious glance, the way they always sought each other out when unexpected things happened. Everyone else was filing out of the gym, ready to change and go home.

“What about?” Hinata asked, his voice a little high.

Sugawara smiled self-consciously, glancing at Tobio. “It involves both of you, but I think—”

Hinata was clutching the towel around his shoulders tightly, seeming nervous, and Tobio walked over. He fought the urge to grab Hinata’s hand. “What is it?” he asked instead.

“It’s—probably better if I speak to you individually…”

“I’d like it if Kageyama could stay,” Hinata said, clearly uneasy. Worry gnawed at Tobio’s stomach, too. Sugawara was insightful; had he guessed that things had changed between them? He didn’t think they were different on the court, and he’d never held Hinata’s hand in public, but—

“Are you sure? Separate might be better—”

He felt Hinata press in against his side. Was dating teammates against the rules?

“Tell us!” Hinata said, and Sugawara sighed.

“Fine. Sit down, you two.”

They dropped to the wood floor as one, and Sugawara sat down opposite them. He scratched at his cheek for a moment before starting.

“You two are in a relationship,” he said. “Right?”

Tobio and Hinata said nothing, the former’s throat tightening at Sugawara’s serious tone. Was he going to tell them they couldn’t be? Was that why he’d wanted to speak to them separately?

“Right! I thought so. Ah—stop looking like you’re in trouble! This isn’t about that. I’m very happy for you.”

Tobio heaved a sigh of relief, and Sugawara laughed. “I guess I should have led with that, huh?”

“So what is it about?” Hinata asked, leaning forward.  He was sitting in butterfly position, his hands on his ankles.

“It’s about—hm. Well, there’s no easy way to say it. It’s about sex. Specifically sex between two guys.”

Tobio felt the blood drain from his face. “We don’t—we have the Internet for that—”

Sugawara gave him a look. “The Internet doesn’t tell you what’s important and what’s not. What if you forget to look something up? What if one of you gets hurt?”

“You think we’d get hurt?” Hinata asked doubtfully. Meanwhile, Tobio felt vindicated. He’d been right to avoid Hinata, then—but his moment of joy faded as he realized this meant more holding back.

“You two get hurt walking through a doorway,” Sugawara said dryly, obviously remembering all the times they’d wrestled their way into the gym only to end up with scrapes and bruises. “It doesn’t have to hurt. I just don’t want you to be careless.”

Sugawara grinned his devil grin. "Plus, I want to see the looks on your faces during the explanation."

"Suga-senpai!" Hinata said, his voice a whine, and Sugawara laughed.

"Just kidding," he said, although Tobio doubted he was. Tobio let his head drop into his hands, waiting for the torture to start. It did a moment later—although, to his surprise, the beginning of Sugawara’s lecture wasn’t too bad. It sounded much like what Tobio’s mother had told him, except it wasn’t exclusively about kissing. Tobio even managed to look up at Sugawara for most of it, though he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at Hinata again. But then—

“Now, when people think of sex, they generally think of penetrative sex,” Sugawara said, making Tobio regret thinking the lecture wasn’t that bad. “That’s _not_ the only kind there is. I won’t embarrass you by describing all the other options—I’ll shoot you a link later today, if your parents don’t monitor your email accounts…?”

Tobio shook his head. From the corner of his eye he saw that Hinata had pulled the towel up over his head, and that he was gripping his ankles with white knuckles. Suddenly Tobio felt a little less embarrassed, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, good. Now, for—” Sugawara took a breath, and let it out in a laugh. "Huh, now I'm getting embarrassed! This was meant to be funny."

That last part meant to be to himself, Tobio presumed. Sugawara soldiered on after repeating the  _you shouldn't do stuff you're not prepared for_ part of the lecture from earlier. He took another big breath, then, mortifyingly:

“For anal sex, you’ll need a lot of lube, which makes things slick. Means it doesn’t hurt as long as you take your time. And most people use condoms, too. It’s to prevent infections, but it’s also good for clean-up and… other things.” Sugawara looked around the gym, making sure no one else was inside. He shifted so his back was to the open door. “Tell me if anyone comes up behind me.”

Without further explanation, he conjured a foil packet from his jacket pocket and held it up, flipping it for them to examine. Next he tore it open, and Tobio watched him draw an off-white circle from the packet. He felt his face heat up, embarrassment warming his whole body. He was sweating more than he had in practice.

“This is a condom—there’s nothing scary or weird about them. When you take it out you have to look at it and see which way is up.” Sugawara held it up on the flat of his hand. “See, the donut-like ring shape has to be facing upward. That way you can roll it down. Do you see?”

Tobio leaned forward despite himself, watching as Sugawara showed both sides. He thought he knew what his upperclassman was talking about, and made a mental note to remember. This seemed to amuse Sugawara; there was a private smile, quickly ironed out.

“Okay, so, you place it on the head of the erect penis—stop looking like that, this is all normal stuff—and you slide it down like this.” Sugawara demonstrated on two of his fingers. “You see? Right down to the base.”

And somehow—Tobio didn’t know how, because these were the most embarrassing ten minutes of his life—Tobio felt a shock go through him. _Right down to the base._ He couldn’t help imagining it, and he covered his face with his hand. Holy crap, was he—was he getting aroused?

 _This is the worst moment of my life. The worst._ He tried to think of getting volleyballs shot at his head, getting kicked in the shins, anything—but all he could imagine was using that stupid white tube, what it would mean. He caught his breath with difficulty.

“Now, don’t ever flush one of these down the toilet. They come right back up. If you’re hiding things from your parents, just wrap them in something before throwing them away.”

“How do you know all these things?” Hinata asked, sounding awed.

_Don’t ask that, you idiot!_

“Se-cret!” Sugawara sing-songed. “I’m your senpai, after all. It’s my job to know these things. And to torture you with them!”

Tobio breathed a sigh of relief, regardless of the last comment. At least Sugawara wasn’t going to answer Hinata seriously. There were a lot of things Tobio didn’t want to know, and how Sugawara came to be an expert on these things was one of them—or rather, he was curious, but he didn’t think he’d live through Sugawara explaining it.

He had a feeling Sugawara understood that. But then, maybe he didn't. If he knew how much it mortified Tobio, maybe he  _would_ tell.

“Anyway,” Sugawara said, and Tobio noticed he’d removed the condom from sight at some point. Another big relief. “Those are the basics. Every couple goes at a different pace, you know? And some never have sex at all. As long as everyone’s happy and healthy, there’s no wrong way to do these things. Also, this totally doesn't count as my blessing for doing this stuff. But I thought you should know.”

Tobio nodded stiffly.

“I’ll be able to answer any questions you have, so don’t be shy. Is there anything…?”

Hinata seemed to be thinking of something, and so Tobio stood up abruptly. “Not from me. Can I go?”

Sugawara smiled. “Of course. See you on the way out.”

“I—yes. Thank you for the lesson.”

He left the gym like he was being chased, running up to the locker room. He hadn’t stopped blushing yet by the time he passed Daichi on the walkway outside, but the volleyball captain didn’t say anything—just smiled and patted Tobio on the shoulder, then continued walking in the opposite direction.

Tobio stared. _What was that?_

He was still thinking about it when he entered the deserted club room, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. If Hinata had seen him, he’d probably say he looked scary. _But it’s not me who’s scary_ , Tobio thought, remembering Sugawara’s lesson and Daichi’s strange shoulder pat. _Why Daichi, too?_

He changed quickly, and it was only as he was stuffing his exercise clothes into his bag in front of his open locker that he noticed something: a paper bag with his name on it.

 _Oh god_.

He peeked inside, and saw a tube and a handful of those foil wrappers.

 _Oh god_.

They’d done this, hadn’t they? Sugawara and Daichi, working together. Was that likely? He stuffed the paper bag in among his exercise clothes quickly and closed the zipper over it, cheeks flaming. He wouldn’t be able to look either of the team’s captains in the eye for weeks, now. All Sugawara’s assurances of _take your time_ and _this is just so you’ll be prepared when both of you are ready_ stuck in his brain.

 _I’ll never be ready_ , Tobio thought. He would be too embarrassed to lift a finger near Hinata for the rest of his life.

After making sure his bag was definitely zipped up and not going to spill anything, he rushed out of the club room, not wanting to be caught in there when Sugawara and Hinata went to get changed. They passed him on the stairs anyway.

“Wait for me at the gate?” Hinata said cheerfully, and Tobio nodded against his better judgment. It would be awkward to walk with Sugawara and Hinata—but leaving would confirm just how mortified he was, and he didn’t want that either. He was relieved when, two minutes later, Hinata came running up to the school gates alone.

“Where’s Sugawara-san?” Tobio asked.

“He got a phone call, told me to go ahead.”

 _Likely story_. “Okay.”

They collected Hinata’s bike and started making their way home, watching the grey sky for signs of rain. The streetlights blinked on as they walked.

 _He’s being quiet_ , Tobio thought, when they were two streets on and Hinata still hadn’t said anything. Was he embarrassed, too? He had been during the lesson, but he seemed a lot more cheerful after his private chat with Sugawara. Tobio glanced over, expecting to see Hinata avoiding his gaze—but instead he saw him smiling at his phone, guiding the bicycle one-handed.

“What’s that?” Tobio asked. Hinata was looking at a picture, and it was impossible to see from this angle.

Hinata grinned. “I asked Sugawara-san for the pictures he took of us. Set one as my background.”

Flutters erupted in Tobio’s stomach, quickly squashed down. “But what if someone sees?”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Hinata asked, brown eyes large and innocent. It made Tobio feel warm and unsettled, and he wasn’t sure what to say. Was that bad? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the thought of what people might do or say; he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone badmouthing Hinata for dating a guy or—if they were okay with the guy part—dating _him_.

Tobio didn’t exactly make friends easily. What if they convinced Hinata this was a horrible idea?

“I mean,” Hinata continued. “I’m kind of proud, you know? I don’t want to go out of my way to keep it a secret.”

“You’re proud?” Tobio managed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, yeah. You’re the only one who’s ever thrown tosses like that, right? So I’m dating the most brilliant setter of our generation.” He grinned. “And all the girls in class have crushes on you. Ha! Except they probably wouldn’t if they really knew you.”

“They do?” Tobio felt his face pull into a frown.

“Yeah. They think you’re stoic, or something. And because you’re tall. That’s really unfair, by the way. _No one_ has a crush on me, and I already know there’s at least five girls after you for sure—”

“I do.”

“What?”

Tobio looked staunchly away. “I have a crush on you.”

“W-well, yeah.” Hinata fell silent. When Tobio glanced over, he saw the Hinata’s face was a shade darker than usual.

“Show me,” he said.

“W-what?”

“The picture of us.”

Hinata’s expression cleared, and he handed Tobio his phone. He’d set the picture to the lock screen, too, and Tobio looked at it as they walked.

“There’s five others, but that one’s my favorite,” Hinata said. Tobio thought he could see why; the boys in the picture looked perfectly suited to each other. Tobio was on his back, his arm around Hinata, and Hinata was curled into him, his arm and leg slung across Tobio’s body. There was something intimate in the way Tobio’s face was turned into Hinata’s hair, and a flush of embarrassment went through him at the thought of the team seeing him like this.

“It’s—uh—”

Hinata snatched his phone back. “You’re not allowed to delete it.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“I don’t believe you! You had a weird look in your eyes.” Hinata cradled the phone to his chest. “I’m not giving it to you again.”

“Dumbass,” Tobio said, turning away. He wondered if he could ask Sugawara to send him the pictures too. He didn’t like others having them—but being able to look at them himself wouldn’t be so bad.

Silence settled around them again while he deliberated, the night-quiet broken up by their footsteps and the sound of cars driving by. A dog barked in the distance.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hinata said.

“Hm?”

“Do you really think it has to be a secret?”

His tone was unusually contemplative, and Tobio heard the question behind it: _are you embarrassed?_ “No,” he said immediately. “I’m just a little worried about how people will react.”

“The team? Or our families?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Tsukishima would tease us.”

“Probably. He does that already.”

Hinata smiled at that. “Sugawara-san already knows.”

“I think Daichi does, too.”

Brown eyes widened dramatically. “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” Tobio was glad Hinata didn’t ask how he knew. “I think it’s better to not say anything for now and let them figure it out themselves. Maybe.”

“Hm.”

The corner where they would separate was nearing, and Tobio felt a tug of conscience. “Better for me, I mean. Not us.”

Hinata looked up inquiringly.

“I guess—I think—Nishinoya-san and Tanaka-san would probably think you picked badly. They really like you.”

They stopped at the corner, and Hinata stared at him. “They like you, too.”

“Yeah, but—different.”

“Yeah, of course—everyone’s different.” It was obvious Hinata had no idea what Tobio meant; he didn’t know how much the upperclassmen loved him—how much everyone he ever met loved him. “I think Tanaka would be mad at me. He’d say I’m trying to get special treatment.”

Tobio huffed a laugh. “And are you?”

“Yeah, of course!” Hinata grinned. “I want all kinds of stuff. More tosses, kisses, movie nights, sleepovers—”

“Sleepovers are a bad idea!”

“You said ‘good’ wrong.”

Tobio glared, remembering his earlier mortification. “Didn’t you hear what Sugawara-san said?”

“Yeah! There’s no right or wrong age to start doing things, and we shouldn’t feel embarrassed either way.”

“I was thinking about ‘you should wait until you’re both ready’.”

“You’re not ready?”

“You _are_?”

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. “Do you think you’ll want to ever?” Hinata asked, sounding worried.

Tobio blushed, thinking of that condom sliding down over Sugawara’s fingers. “I want to. But that’s—different. Wanting and doing are different.”

“Oh,” Hinata said, brightening. “That’s fine, then. I guess you’re only fifteen.”

Tobio couldn’t stop his hand from shooting out and gripping Hinata’s head. “ _Same. Year_ ,” he said through his teeth. Hinata had been pointing out their age difference almost constantly since June.

“Ouch, ouch, yes, fine, let go—” Hinata said, and Tobio did as asked. Hinata rubbed his head. “You could go easy on me, you know.”

“That _was_ easy,” Tobio said. Hinata deserved worse for that bit of stupidity. “You’re only six months older than I am, dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” They both watched as a car went past. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

Tobio nudged him. “Why do you sound so down all of a sudden?”

Hinata looked up, eyebrows drawn together. His hands clenched and unclenched around his bicycle’s brake levers. “Because I won’t see you again until tomorrow.”

Warmth flooded Tobio’s body. “Oh. Yeah.”

Hinata looked up at him expectantly.

“I hate that part of the day, too,” Tobio said with effort. It wasn’t easy to admit, but Hinata’s smile made it worth it.

“You could text,” Hinata said.

“What about?”

“Anything.”

Tobio’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“You could say what you thought about Sugawara-san’s email once you read it,” Hinata said. There was a smile tugging at his lips.

“I won’t do that! Definitely not!”

“Maybe I will, then.”

“Dumbass Hinata! Don’t! I won’t reply.” Even though there was a part of him that wanted to have something to talk about.

“I’ll wait for your text,” Hinata said, grinning. Tobio glared back, furious—and then he was leaning forward.

Kissing the grin off Hinata’s face.

Straightening up again.

Hinata touched his lips, looking flustered. “What was that for?”

“Goodbye kiss,” Tobio said. “Bye, Hinata.”

“It was a shut-up kiss,” Hinata complained.

 _Well, that’s true too._ “See you tomorrow.”

“Hear from you tonight!”

Tobio grumbled as he walked away, but his footsteps were light. He listened for the _shh_ of Hinata’s bicycle tires and the rattle of his chain and heard it a moment later—Hinata was on his way home. When he was sure Hinata was gone, he let himself smile, touching his lips in silent contemplation.

So shut-up kisses were a thing, too.

He looked forward to using them.


	6. I want you to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata does text him that night, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some bad news for the people who hoped last chapter was the worst awkwardness I'd throw at them... oops.
> 
> As always your encouragement has been amazing. I am blown over. Semi-literally; sometimes I have to just lie down and process it. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to send me a kind message. 
> 
> Speaking of being blown over, tumblr user Askagehina drew fanart of chapter 5, seen here: http://askagehina.tumblr.com/post/95559545997/title-i-like-the-way-your-clothes-smell (someone please pick me up off the floor)
> 
> A note: this chapter is pretty heavy on sexual content. Rated M, so proceed with caution if that makes you uncomfortable. (I'd say where to skip from/to but it feels too spread out to do so.)

The page Sugawara had sent them a link to was… really comprehensive.

Tobio read it all on his phone, sitting stiffly on his bed with his back to the wall. His breathing was shallow, his legs drawn up to his chest. Every now and then he moved his hand over his mouth, suppressing sounds that—thankfully—didn’t make it past his throat.

There were way more ways to have sex than Tobio had ever even considered. He’d sort of imagined what sex would be like, tentatively, but the guilt stopped him from fantasizing about actually doing it with Hinata. This website was way beyond anything he’d imagined or fantasized about. There were pictures, and Tobio found himself swallowing frequently as he read, trying not to let his mind wander.

The sudden buzz of his phone caused him to jump and bang the back of his head against the wall. He gasped and struggled not to drop his phone, only to hear the door opening a moment later. He looked up with the air of a criminal awaiting his fate, finding his mother standing in the doorway with a worried look on her face.

“That was loud!” she said. “Are you okay?”

He nodded jerkily.

The worry stopped creasing her brow, and her eyebrows rose. “What are you doing in here alone?”

“Reading on my phone.” His words sounded breathless, even to him.

“You want anything?”

He shook his head, and with a quizzical smile his mother shut the door. “Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled through it.

Tobio took a few deep breaths and looked at his phone screen again. He had a new text—from Hinata.

**Hinata:**

_Did you read it yet???_

He hadn’t been kidding about texting him about it, then. Tobio’s hands trembled around his phone.

**You:**

_I was reading it. Your text made me jump_

**Hinata:**

_Because you were so into it?? ;)_

That was one way of looking at it, Tobio guessed.

**You:**

_I’m not talking to you about this_

The reply was almost instantaneous.

**Hinata:**

_But I really want you to and you wont if we're together, right? Now is a good time :)_

**You:**

_I won't, period_

**Hinata:**

_Fine can I talk to you about it? You don’t have to say anything_

Tobio swallowed spit. He wanted to know Hinata’s thoughts—that was for sure—but how could he respond after? Tomorrow they’d see each other, and Tobio would have to face him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to, depending on what Hinata said now.

 _I could pretend I didn’t read it if it’s too embarrassing_ , he thought. It settled the matter, and he sent back a one-word text— _okay_ —before slinking back up against the wall, swallowing down trepidation.

It took a full minute for his phone to buzz again, and he clung to it like a lifeline. What had Hinata said?

**Hinata:**

_Reading about this stuff just makes me want to do it more. And I'm worried you won't want to and you'll think it's gross maybe, since you don’t like it as much. I really want to touch you all the time and I want you to touch me (8.39PM)_

Hinata’s words sounded so sincere—not like he was trying to tease him. Tobio waited breathlessly for more, and he didn’t have to wait long.

_I'm really into you and when we're close I just feel different. I always did but it's different now. I notice everything about you. And then I read this stuff and I guess I was fantasizing about a lot of it already but I didn’t know what it was called (8.42PM)_

Tobio rubbed his hand over his face, conscious of the way he kept having to remind himself to breathe—his sweaty hands—the tug of arousal tightening his pants. He was also extremely conscious of his parents in the next room.

_I guess what I'd really like to know is if you think about me too that way because I think about you that way a lot. Or something. You don’t have to answer (8.44PM)_

Tobio gripped his phone one-handed, the other hand over his face as he typed a reply. It was a bad idea, but he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen Hinata’s messages after all. He held his breath as he typed: _I try not to think of you that way because it seems wrong._

There. Sent.

**Hinata:**

_Why? I want you to_

Tobio twitched, letting himself drop onto the bed so he was lying curled around his phone. How could Hinata _say_ things like that? He shut his eyes tightly, trying not to notice how warm he was. There was no way he could respond to that text, either by replying or—other means.

**Hinata:**

_Do you want to? Now?_

With his heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest Tobio listened to his parents in the next room. What would they think if they knew what he was doing in here? Not that he was doing anything—coiled tight around himself with his breathing shallow and his palms sweaty—but he was thinking of doing things. _I want you to_ , he repeated in his head, still shocked by it, which brought him back to Hinata’s earlier words:

 _I think about you that way a lot_.

Did that mean what Tobio thought it meant? The thought made him feel too hot, and he hid his face in the pillow. His mind didn’t stop there, unfortunately—it continued into a mental picture of Hinata alone in his room, eyes shut tight, gasping shallowly as he slid his hands—

Oh god. What was he even thinking? He was getting aroused again, damn it. Tobio looked at his phone screen to distract himself and saw that Hinata hadn’t sent anything more or changed the subject. Was he waiting? Worried? Did he really think Tobio could be disgusted with him?

**You:**

_My parents are in the next room, dumbass. They could come in at any time._

The moment Tobio pressed send he regretted it. That was so close to an admission—it was _so obvious_. But there was a part of him that wanted to be convinced, that wanted Hinata to say things like _I want you to_ and _I notice everything about you_. Rereading the texts from earlier made him feel like a group of butterflies had gotten caught in his stomach and were desperately trying to escape.

**Hinata:**

_You should tell them you're tired and going to sleep. It's sorta late, right?_

He was definitely trying to convince him. Tobio glanced down at the slight tent in his pants, wondering when everything his body did had started to embarrass him. It wasn’t like that before; he was more coordinated than others, had better reflexes, ran faster miles. His body was a finely honed instrument—except it wasn’t anymore. Lately it was a mess of warmth and aches and useless things like flutters.

So why did it feel so good?

He didn’t quite make the decision to move; when he noticed himself moving, he was already standing up. Blood rushed to his head, and he stumbled to the door. _What am I doing?_ he asked himself over and over. He opened the door.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” he said, blinking at the light. The noise from the TV hummed in the background as his parents looked up at him. He was careful to stay mostly behind the door, conscious of the bulge in his pants. It was getting less obvious, thank goodness.

“Are you feeling okay?” his mother asked.

 _No_ , he thought. “Just tired.”

“You’ve done your homework?” his dad asked.

“Yeah.”

“Get some sleep.”

Tobio closed the door, heart hammering. He picked up his phone: no new texts. He wondered if Hinata was waiting—whether he expected Tobio to do as he suggested. _I can’t tell him_ , Tobio thought, embarrassed beyond belief. He tried to remember what he normally sounded like, when he wasn’t a mess of held breath and lingering aches.

**You:**

_I told you I wasn’t talking to you about this, dumbass_

The response was instant.

**Hinata:**

_Well, I'm gonna talk to you anyway unless you tell me not to (8.56PM)_

_So ha! And I'm gonna imagine you too (8.56PM)_

_…unless it really bothers you? :( (8.57PM)_

**You:**

_It doesn’t. idiot. I just thought it would bother you maybe_

**Hinata:**

_No…_

Tobio’s hand clenched around his phone. What was that ellipsis for? Was that an ‘it kinda bothers me’? Why use proper punctuation _now_? His sudden annoyance allowed him to exit out of the messaging screen and navigate into his contact list instead. Without hesitation he pressed the call button next to Hinata’s number.

And then remembered what they’d just been talking about.

He nearly hung up, but Hinata answered too quickly. His hushed whisper of “Kageyama?” set all Tobio’s nerves ablaze.

“What did you mean ‘no dot-dot-dot’?” Tobio asked in an sharp whisper, his hand over the left side of his mouth so it wouldn’t carry past the receiver. “Is that a no? Or a yes?”

“It’s a—” Hinata’s voice caught. He lowered it. “It’s a no-plus.”

“What?! What’s a no-plus?”

“It means there’s more to it than just no! It… uh…”

“What?” Tobio asked, barely breathing.

“It turns me on, okay?!”

“Wh-what?”

“Just… thinking of you… fantasizing about me. It turns me on. That’s normal! It’s not creepy.” Tobio could virtually _hear_ Hinata squirm, but he was too stunned to set him at ease. That just—oh.

“Say something!” Hinata hissed.

Tobio ducked his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. He swallowed painfully. “Okay then.”

“Okay?”

“Y-yeah. That’s good to know.”

“What? Do _you_ think it’s creepy?”

“No, I—I like it.”

“You do?”

He imagined Hinata again, a flushed Hinata with his breath coming quickly and his head thrown back, soft gasps muffled by a trembling hand. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. And—and I’m not talking to you about this. Dumbass.”

Even he could hear how uneven his whisper was.

“Okay,” Hinata said. “Will you… think of me, please?”

“Idiot! I just said I wouldn’t talk to you about—”

“Because I’m gonna think about you, okay? After we hang up. It’ll be like we’re doing it together.”

Panic rose in his throat. “I haven’t agreed yet!”

“Yet,” Hinata parroted giddily. _Oh, crap_. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Everyone does it.”

“Not like that,” Tobio whispered back. _Not like they’re doing it together._

“Please? I really like you, Kage—um. T-Tobio.”

That group of butterflies from earlier exploded back into movement, so forcefully that Tobio had to lie down covering his face. _Tobio_. Had Hinata ever called him that before? He didn’t think so. Sometimes it seemed like Hinata had forgotten he wasn’t just called _Kageyama_ , whereas Tobio always felt aware of Hinata’s first name. Others said it all the time, but—it felt like too much to say it. _Shouyou_. Nekoma’s setter had called Hinata that after just one meeting.

Tobio still couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata said. “That was weird, right?”

“It wasn’t weird,” Tobio said, in a rush.

“O-okay. But I’ll… wait. To say it again.”

 _Wait for what?_ Tobio thought, but he didn’t ask. “Okay.”

“I’m hanging up, okay?”

“Yeah.” It sounded like a sigh.

“Think of me, okay?”

Something had to be affecting his brain, because he said it again: “Yeah.”

Hinata hung up.

Tobio rolled over, hiding his face in the pillow. He felt feverish, and his limbs felt light and absolutely useless. There were too many feelings flooding his body; would he ever go back to functioning properly? Had his crush on Hinata permanently impaired him?

Tobio thought of Hinata stuttering his name, and the thought made him curl up tightly on his side, as if he was holding himself together. On the court, Hinata made him strong, but outside of it—

Weak. _Really_ weak.

“Shouyou,” he said into his pillow. It sounded like a secret.

He thought of Hinata, a twenty minute bicycle ride away, in his own dark bedroom. Was he thinking of Tobio now, like he’d said? And in what way? Was he imagining them together, separated only by clothing? Skin to skin? Tobio’s breathing went shallow at the thought. He thought of the sleepover at Ennoshita’s house and how Hinata’s scent had surrounded him, the clean smell of shampoo and detergent and Hinata’s skin. He’d been too mortified to really enjoy it at the time, but remembering how it felt to have Hinata moving back against him had left him yearning for days now; it felt precious and dangerous at the same time.

What would they do if they were alone? Would they experiment, like Sugawara’s website had encouraged its readers to do? Would they rub their bodies together, until—

Oh god. He couldn’t even imagine it without being mortified. It was shameful, wasn’t it? But Hinata didn’t make it sound shameful—he made it sound like it was normal, and like he wouldn’t be disgusted by any of it. That was important; Tobio would hate it if something about him disgusted Hinata. He’d been so worried, before, that Hinata would be revolted by his feelings alone. He'd been angry just at the thought.

Of course, he hadn’t known then that Hinata would be talking him into things over the phone less than three weeks later. It was absurd, how his life had changed drastically from abstract longing to daily torture, but Tobio couldn’t regret any choice he made that brought him to today.

Hinata was thinking about him. _Fantasizing_ about him, even. And wanted him to do the same.

Tobio pulled off his pants and shirt and crawled under the blankets, still flushed and self-conscious. _It’s not embarrassing_ , he told himself. _It turns Hinata on._

Ugh, no—he couldn’t think that. It would embarrass him all over again, thinking of Hinata knowing what he was doing in here, or about to do.

 _He doesn’t know_ , Tobio thought. _He suspects. He won’t know for sure unless I tell him._

That was better. He breathed a sigh, closing his eyes in the already dark room. The nervous flutter of his heart didn’t bode well; he hadn’t even done anything yet and he already felt like he was doing something bad.

He imagined Hinata in the bed with him, with them alone this time, Hinata straddling his hips. Imaginary weight pressed down on his crotch and shoulders—ghost breaths gusted over his face—large brown eyes looked down on him, excited and nervous at the same time, the pupils blown wide. He imagined his hands settling on Hinata’s hips, holding him in place.

Warmth rushed to Tobio’s face as he felt the effects of the fantasy after just a moment of maintaining it. He clamped down on his embarrassment, squeezing his eyelids more firmly shut.

“I want to touch you,” Hinata said. Tobio was pretty sure it was a direct quote from their text conversation earlier, but this time _you_ meant something different as Hinata’s hands traveled down Tobio’s chest to the light trail of hair leading into the waistband of his underwear. Tobio’s hands followed the imagined path of Hinata’s, and he fantasized that it was Hinata who pushed his boxers down, Hinata who curled his fingers around his growing erection. Tobio swallowed, bracing himself for what he wanted to imagine next.

 _It’s allowed_ , he thought again, imagining fantasy Hinata smiling at him.

“I want to use my mouth,” Hinata said softly, and Tobio nodded—the real him did, because he was that far gone—and the next thing he knew he was arching up helplessly, in the throes of his fantasy: wet warmth, and the feel of Hinata’s tongue on the underside of his erection. Tobio bit back a moan. He knew it was just him, just his own hands, but he also knew that somewhere miles away, Hinata was doing the same thing—and suddenly that was what he was fantasizing about.

He imagined the real Hinata panting and arching off his bed, imagined him mouthing a name—not just Kageyama, but _Tobio_ , too, his mouth forming the word like a secret, the same way Tobio had said Hinata’s name earlier. He imagined gasps of breath, and _need_ , the same need that lanced through Tobio as he came closer to his relief. He wanted Hinata here, not there. He wanted to hear his stuttering breaths, wanted to hear him call his name. He found himself reaching, clutching at sheets, pretending he could feel Hinata.

“Hinata,” he breathed, thrusting up into his hand. “Hinata.”

 _Shouyou_.

He couldn’t say it right then—couldn’t imagine himself saying it—so he imagined Hinata again, turned onto his side, his knees drawn up and his bottom lip between his teeth. There was tension in every line of Hinata’s posture—and then relief as he came, thrusting, mumbling _Tobio-Tobio-Tobio_ , and then it wasn’t just Hinata; it was Tobio coming, too, so distracted by his own imagination he barely remembered to keep his left hand over the head of his erection, keeping his cum from splattering the bed as waves of pleasure shuddered through him.

“Shouyou,” he whispered, feeling suddenly bereft—like he needed Hinata here, now, to touch and kiss and feel against him. He needed the distance between them to fall away to nothing, all that night air separating their houses gone, the walls gone—just Hinata and him, together, panting, looking at each other. _What did we just do?_ their faces would ask—but they wouldn’t regret it. Hinata’s face would crack into a smile, and Tobio would look away so Hinata couldn’t see his blush.

He was blushing already, alone in his room. His hand was sticky with cum, and he’d kicked most of the blankets off sometime while he was fantasizing. If his mother had come in—if she’d heard his stuttering breaths and restless movements—he’d be well and truly caught.

Tobio couldn’t find the energy to move much, though—instead he wondered if Hinata would text him again. It felt just as it had earlier, when Hinata had been unhappy because the rest of the night would be spent separate from one another. The hours between now and tomorrow morning felt too long, stretched out to an infinity. There was a part of Tobio that wanted to borrow his father’s bicycle and make the trip to Hinata’s house.

He suppressed that part with some difficulty, telling himself it wasn’t practical. Or safe. Or likely to go unnoticed.

Eventually he managed to pull his boxers up and stumble over to his desk, where he grabbed tissues. He wiped his hands off as best he could, and anywhere else that felt wet, but really what he wanted was to shower. Or at least to wash his hands.

So long as his parents were in the next room, though, he wouldn’t. He felt like anyone looking at him now would know something was different.

A buzz from the bed had him rushing back over to his phone, general stickiness forgotten, his heart in his throat.

**Hinata:**

_Hey, Kageyama?_

_Tobio_ , he thought, a new need awake in his chest. _Call me Tobio._ But he couldn’t say that.

**You:**

_Yeah?_

**Hinata:**

_I really like you, you know_

Tobio sighed, annoyed at the pulse of warmth in his chest. He really was hopeless these days.

**You:**

_Dumbass. I really like you, too_


	7. Practice matches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter came hot on the heels of the last one. As always, your encouragement has absolutely blown me away. You guys are the literal best.
> 
> MORE amazing fanart, this time from last chapter (nsfw, seriously, turn your screen): http://rukiscroax.tumblr.com/post/95712842498/i-want-you-to-kageyama-tobio-in-a-private ahhh.... ahhh... ahem. [[heavy breathing]]
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter; thank you for being great.

Shouyou’s hands trembled as he locked his bike in the bike rack at school. Cold had numbed his fingers on the ride over, making the task that much harder, but with force of will he wrestled the lock into submission.

His heart fluttered as he straightened. He was early. _Too_ early. Early for being early, even—he and Kageyama always got to school at about six fifty in the morning, but it was only six forty.

 _Ten more minutes_. The interminable wait would be easier at the gym, where he could just about feel Kageyama’s presence around him even when Kageyama was elsewhere. He emerged from the bike racks at a run, intent on closing the distance between them as much as he could—before thinking that maybe he ought to wait by the entrance.

Shouyou shook off the idea. He’d never waited for Kageyama by the entrance before; if he did it now, it would make Kageyama nervous probably.

 _So, about last night_ , Shouyou imagined himself saying. Ha. No. He _wanted_ to ask if Kageyama had done as he asked, but there was no way he could do it without reducing Kageyama to scowls and hair-grabs.

It would just have to be a mystery for now.

Shouyou’s feet pounded the cement, bag bouncing against his back, and then he was on the soil outside the gym—

And then he was slowing down suddenly.

Kageyama stood by the gym’s entrance, illuminated by the light at the western corner of the gym. His hands were in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air. It was the coldest morning since spring, and neither of them were wearing coats.

“Hey,” Shouyou said, walking up. “You were early! That doesn’t count for our competition.”

Kageyama grunted, taking a step forward and reaching out—Shouyou nearly flinched away, expecting punishment—but Kageyama’s fist closed around the shoulder of his uniform and pulled him forward into him.

Warmth flooded Shouyou.

“Why’d you stop running?” Kageyama asked, sounding resentful. His arms wrapped around Shouyou, his right hand pressing the back of Shouyou’s head so his face was smushed into Kageyama’s shoulder. Shouyou didn’t mind; it was warm there, and smelled like Kageyama.

“Cause you were already here,” he mumbled into black cloth.

“Idiot. That’s a bad reason.”

Shouyou closed his eyes, raising his arms so he could grip the back of Kageyama’s uniform jacket, taking handfuls of the fabric and leaning in. Kageyama felt warm and solid, and—most importantly— _he_ was the one who’d reached out and pulled Shouyou in, not the other way around. Shouyou hummed with pleasure, feeling flutters in his chest and stomach.

“I really wanted to see you,” he said, because he’d caught on to the fact that while Kageyama didn’t often express affection spontaneously, he seemed able to respond to it, as he’d proved last night: _I really like you, too_.

Kageyama’s grip tightened, though he didn’t say anything. Shouyou’s whole body was beginning to warm up, even though the sun hadn’t risen and the night chill still clung to the air. By the time Kageyama’s grip loosened even his hands were beginning to feel less frozen. After a long, silent moment they seemed to step back at exactly the same time, and suddenly Shouyou wasn’t sure where to look.

Why was _he_ feeling nervous? Kageyama was the nervous one! But—Shouyou had said his first name yesterday, and… other things. He felt his face heat up.

 _I don’t regret it,_ Shouyou thought. He shot a glance at Kageyama, who was carefully examining the ground to his right. Did he regret it?

“I don’t—”

“Let’s not—”

“Um,” they said at the same time, eyes meeting for an awkward moment. They looked away in opposite directions.

“You go,” Kageyama said, voice very low. It reminded Shouyou of his whispers yesterday, which didn’t exactly help. Kageyama’s low voice had featured heavily in his fantasies.

“Last night was—”

“Not that!” Kageyama said, his large hands coming up to cover Shouyou’s mouth.

Arousal pulsed in Shouyou’s lower abdomen, sudden and urgent. _Stop it_ , Shouyou thought at his body, a little exasperated. Thinking about Kageyama so much seemed to have permanently altered his perception, until most things his Kageyama did made him feel warm and restless. It was a miracle Shouyou managed to pay attention on the court, and sometimes he thought maybe that was only due to the fact that their quick made him feel—well—

It wasn’t sex. But he wanted it in much the same way—the feeling of invincibility, the moment of connection between him and Kageyama. It felt like flying.

Presently, Kageyama was glaring at him, waiting for some kind of response. Shouyou nodded, and Kageyama removed his hands.

Shouyou fought the urge to touch his lips.

“I wasn’t going to make you talk,” he said. “Just so you know.”

“Yeah, just like you didn’t last ni—” Kageyama stopped, seeming to realize what he was saying. The corners of his mouth pulled down into a truly awe-inspiring frown, eyebrows furrowing dangerously. It didn’t quite disguise the fact that he was blushing.

Shouyou held up his hands. “Hey, you said it, not me.” He nudged Kageyama. “Let’s go up to the clubroom to wait. Oh, and you should toss to me lots today.”

“Don’t I always?” Kageyama grumbled, but he followed without protest, and some of the awkwardness dissipated.

Some of it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Aobajousai?” at least five people chorused, voices ranging from excited to horrified.

“Why _them_?” Tanaka groaned. “Why not head to Tokyo to practice against teams we actually like?”

“Their coach requested it,” Takeda said. “But coach Ukai agreed; it’s a good opportunity for you.”

“You’ll get a lot of practice,” Ukai said.

“Won’t they try to measure us up so they can win in the next round?” Sugawara asked, sounding concerned. “Isn’t it better if they don’t know what we’re capable of?”

“It would be,” Ukai said, “Except that I don’t plan to have you use your full arsenal. Just what they already know you can do. I want them to fight a different Karasuno than they will in the official matches, if we end up against each other.”

Shouyou and Kageyama exchanged glances, and Shouyou felt the eyes of his teammates on him. They probably didn’t think he could hold back.

They were probably right.

“I don’t mean slow down,” Ukai said, raising his hands. “Just don’t surprise them. Our goal is to practice being a better team on the whole. And watching Aobajousai is a good way to do that.”

“Nekoma is better,” Tanaka grumbled, and Shouyou agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on!” Ukai said. “Is this the Karasuno High School Volleyball Team I know? I thought you’d be dyin’ for this opportunity. Guess you’re scared—”

“We’re not!” Nishinoya and Tanaka said at the same time. Resolve hardened on the faces of the players.

“That’s the spirit!” Ukai grinned. “We have a week to prepare, and then another week before the next round of matches. There’s no time to slack.”

Shouyou felt restlessness unfurl in his stomach, and he shot another glance at Kageyama. This time, though, he didn’t meet Shouyou’s gaze.

He was frowning at the ground, instead.

 

* * *

 

 

A week and a half later found them all sitting on the bus at nine in the morning, heading out to Aobajousai. Shouyou sat in his customary seat next to Kageyama, fraught with energy.

“Hey,” he said, shaking Kageyama’s arm. “Why’re you so quiet? It’ll be good, you know. Lots and lots of matches against the Grand King—that’s good!”

They’d lived and breathed volleyball for the past week and a half, practicing even outside of team practice. Ukai Senior kept threatening to charge them for the use of his fields, but he never did—though he did chase them off his property one night when they were still practicing serves and receives at eleven at night. Finally getting to do battle with the Grand King felt like a reward, now that they’d worked so hard.

Kageyama looked up, not really seeming to see Shouyou. Was he nervous? But then his eyes cleared, and his eyebrows descended.

“You smell kind of weird,” he said, discomfort radiating off him. Shouyou scooted back.

“W-what?! Weird? Weird in what way? Bad?”

Kageyama’s gaze slid away. “Sort of. Sorry.”

Shouyou pulled at the fabric by his armpits, sniffing it self-consciously. Everything was clean! He’d brushed his teeth this morning and showered last night. He hadn’t even vomited before getting on the bus. What on Earth did Kageyama mean? Why did he smell bad?

“I don’t smell it!” Shouyou said in frustration. “What kind of smell is it?”

“It’s only when you’re close—not really a problem…”

 _Not a problem?_ Shouyou thought. That was a huge problem! What if Kageyama hated being near him forever?

“Seriously, stop worrying. Just concentrate on the match.”

 _Concentrate_ , Shouyou thought. Okay, he could do that—but after today’s practice matches, he was going to look through all his hygiene products and make Kageyama sniff each of them until they rooted out the bad one.

He faced front with a pout on his face, though he felt Kageyama glance at him. “What?” he asked edgily. They weren’t even touching anymore—was he still sitting too close?

“Nothing,” Kageyama said. “I’ll toss to you a lot, okay?”

Shouyou felt a flush travel through his body, and a smile tugged at his lips. Suddenly he remembered all the months he and Kageyama had just been teammates—not boyfriends. If Kageyama had said he smelled bad then, he probably would have rubbed his armpit in his face. He was tempted to do it now, as punishment, but he'd wait to see if Kageyama delivered on the promise first.

“You better! We have to defeat the Grand King, after all.”

“We will,” Kageyama said.

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t.

Out of four practice matches, they only won one—the first one, and in the third they didn’t even make the full set. The whole team drooped under the weight of that crushing loss, and Shouyou had to watch the Grand King smirk at Kageyama, making some mean comment about maybe seeing him in the tournament. Even Tsukishima looked frustrated as he watched the exchange, and Daichi was holding onto the back of Tanaka’s T-shirt.

All of them were exhausted.

The walk back to the bus was a quiet affair, an atmosphere of gloom hanging over all of them. If they couldn’t defeat Aobajousai in practice, how would they do so in an official match? How would they beat Shiratorizawa, who were ranked even higher?

“Oi!” Coach Ukai said, when they were lining up to get in the bus. “What’s this?”

A sagging volleyball team looked back at him with questions in their eyes, too tired to ask.

“I thought you’d be proud of yourselves. I’m proud of Hinata, for one—this is the kind of stuff other teams do, you know.”

“What stuff?” Sugawara asked, giving in to Ukai’s obvious prompting.

“Secret moves! Going to practice matches and holding back! I didn’t think you had it in you, but you did. You played as if you were still the team you were a few months ago, but better. And you won a match that way.”

He sighed at their continued lack of response.

“Your receives are better. Your serves are better. You connect like a team that’s been together for much longer than you have been. All your hard work is finally paying off—and that’s without using our new moves. Can’t you be proud of that?”

“It doesn’t feel good to hold back!” Shouyou said suddenly. His hands were balled into fists. He’d wanted to wipe that smirk off Oikawa’s face with his new spike. He’d come so close more than a dozen times—but each time he managed to spike the ball in the regular way. He was _worse_ because he’d tried so hard not to be better, and he knew it. “We could have won!”

“Maybe,” someone mumbled, but Ukai grinned.

“Yes,” he said. “You could have.”

Shouyou stared.

“What Coach Ukai is saying,” Takeda explained. “Is that we’ve been training in high altitude today. Next week, in the tournament, we’ll be back at sea level—and all the high altitude training will pay off.”

Shouyou and Kageyama glanced at each other. That hadn’t made Ukai’s reasoning easier to understand at all. High altitude? What was that about? But it seemed to have buoyed the rest of the team up, anyway, and Shouyou saw a weary smile on Sugawara’s face as he stepped onto the bus. Lots of them were smiling, in fact, and Nishinoya clapped Shouyou on the back.

“What they’re saying is, we’ll be better next time. Much better.”

 _But why does that matter if we don’t win now?_ Shouyou thought, feeling dejected. He’d gotten used to losing in Tokyo—but that never meant he stopped wanting to win. He dragged himself onto the bus, wishing he could hide away for a while, feeling like all the fight had gone out of him.

“Oi, where are you going?” Kageyama asked as Shouyou walked past their seat.

He wasn’t sure. He just wanted to curl up in a corner of the bus and sleep until he felt better. Kageyama pulled him back, though, so they were sitting next to each other again.

“Thought I smelled bad,” Shouyou mumbled, wondering why Kageyama was being so insistent.

“You don’t. I lied.”

A sudden burst of energy went through Shouyou. “What?!”

“Just go to sleep, idiot,” Kageyama said, drawing his head onto his shoulder. All around them their teammates were slumping down, out for the count, many of them sprawling across each other’s laps. The closeness between him and Kageyama wouldn’t look out of place—but right now Shouyou didn’t _want_ to lie on Kageyama’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting up again.

“Keep your voice down.”

It _was_ quiet on the bus. Daichi and Sugawara were talking up front in low voices, but the only sounds in the back of the bus were the hum of the engine and the muffled music from Tsukishima’s headphones. Shouyou frowned at Kageyama, wondering why he didn’t want to be overheard.

 _Why would he lie to me?_ he thought helplessly.

Eventually soft breathing turned to snores. Shouyou watched Yamaguchi sag against Tsukishima in the seats in front of them, and he could hear the sleep-even breathing behind him from the sprawl of second years lying there. Ennoshita lay curled up on the bench next to them, tired after playing in two of the four matches.

Shouyou didn’t think anyone would overhear what they said now.

“So?” he asked, not looking at Kageyama. His stomach felt tight, not just from Kageyama’s lie but also from wondering _why_ he’d lied—and then there was the leftover resentment from holding back during the matches, making his stomach roil all the more. He’d expected to enjoy today, but instead he felt—empty.

And confused.

“I thought—it would be better if Oikawa didn’t notice anything. About us.”

“Huh?”

Kageyama sighed, sliding down in his seat so their heads were level. He looked embarrassed. “If I said I didn’t want Oikawa to know we were in a relationship, I thought you would get nervous and make it more obvious. So I lied. I’m sorry.”

“But why shouldn’t he..?” Shouyou asked, a horrifying idea popping up in his head. He _was_ Kageyama’s first boyfriend, wasn’t he? “Wait—not you and Oikawa..?”

Kageyama’s rueful expression transformed into one of horror. “What? No! Dumbass! Of course not. You’re my first—everything…”

Shouyou ignored the way that made his stomach swoop. “Okay, then why?”

“He uses anything he can,” Kageyama said, looking away. “If he thought he could use our relationship to break up the team, he would. I think.”

“Oh.” That made sense, in a way, though Shouyou thought Kageyama might be selling Oikawa short. He was tactical, and childish around Kageyama, but he wasn't  _evil_. Still... “Doesn’t that mean we should tell the team?”

Kageyama glanced around at their sleeping teammates. “Maybe.”

Shouyou nodded. They’d talk about it more, later, when they didn’t run the risk of being overheard.

“You did well today,” he said, in the strained voice he always gave compliments in, his face turned away.

“Huh?”

“Not going all-out. It must have been hard.”

Shouyou’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not angry?” He remembered what Kageyama had been like in middle school when his teammates held back—and Shouyou had been doing it _on purpose,_ even when he saw Kageyama clenching his jaw to hold back comments.

“You were told to. I hate it, but you hate it more. So it’s okay.”

Some of the tension left Shouyou’s body. He looked at Kageyama, the way he’d angled his long body so their heads were level, and suddenly it was kind of funny. He liked this—sitting together, on the bus. And now he knew he didn’t smell bad.

Or rather—he hadn’t before. He was pretty sure he did now, after sweating profusely for several hours. He’d washed his face and hands after the match, but the rest of him was rank—then again, he never minded the way Kageyama smelled after working out: like deodorant and sweat, but not the sour kind of sweat he sometimes smelled in his classroom during tests. Clean sweat, if there was such a thing.

Shouyou glanced over at Ennoshita, still dead to the world on the bench next to them, then reached for Kageyama’s hand, entwining their fingers. Kageyama watched him do it, not resisting, and Shouyou brought their clasped hands up to his mouth. One by one, he pressed soft, slow kisses against Kageyama’s fingers, wishing he could do more. He was conscious of their teammates around them, and Ukai and Takeda at the front of the bus.

For the first time ever, he wished he didn’t have to play volleyball all the time. They’d lived and breathed it, last week, and they were likely to do so again this week. He wanted time with Kageyama, to do more than just walk side by side and practice, to get Kageyama to talk about all the things he’d so expertly avoided the past week.

Restlessness coiled low in his stomach.

Suddenly, Shouyou became aware of the way Kageyama was looking at him, his eyes intent, his chest unnaturally still as if he’d stopped breathing. He also realized he’d been mouthing at Kageyama’s fingers and knuckles this whole time as he thought, pressing wet kisses to them.

No wonder Kageyama looked like that.

Shouyou let their entwined hands drop, swallowing a little. When Kageyama looked at him in that intent way it became impossible to think of anything but getting closer to him, having those dark eyes on him longer, knowing that every nerve in Kageyama’s body was tuned to his, just as Shouyou’s body felt pulled to him. He looked down at Kageyama’s lap, conscious of the sudden urge to straddle it.

 _We’re on the bus_ , he reminded himself—but another part of him was thinking: _Everyone’s asleep_.

Kageyama noticed the direction of his gaze and blushed. He straightened in his seat so they were no longer the same height, and Shouyou saw the surreptitious glance he sent around the bus. He was still looking around when Shouyou leaned up and over to press a kiss to the smooth column of his neck.

Kageyama twitched and went completely still.

Shouyou was drawing back sheepishly when suddenly Kageyama reached for him, tilting his face back up and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Shivers shot down his spine, and vaguely he felt Kageyama’s left hand move to encircle his wrist, as if he was keeping him there.

Shouyou wasn’t trying to escape.

It was hard to be quiet as their breathing got uneven, lungs tight with the need for air. It wasn’t like a normal kiss, because they were both trying not to make a sound; instead their lips slid together, and Shouyou felt a jolt when Kageyama flicked his tongue along his bottom lip. Shouyou’s hand crawled up to the bottom of Kageyama’s volleyball jacket and moved under it, then under the T-shirt beneath to feel soft skin over Kageyama’s hip bone—the barest touch. The fingers around his wrist tightened in response but did nothing to remove his hand. When Shouyou finally remembered to breathe, he found himself surrounded by Kageyama’s scent, dizzy with it.

 _Tobio_ , he thought. The name was always in the back of his mind these days. He wanted to sigh it against Kageyama’s mouth, whisper it to him, trail the pattern of it over tan, flushed skin. He didn’t want to call it out on the court where others could hear—but in moments like this, when every single nerve in his body screamed for more, he wanted to be able to say it, just that, and have Kageyama know every burst of pleasure he felt—everything Kageyama awakened in him.

Their faces were red when they drew back, staring. Kageyama looked down at the wrist he’d captured and let it go, slowly, as if he hadn’t been quite aware how hard he’d been holding on.

Shouyou didn’t care. He’d take a bruised wrist any day for a kiss like that. He held up a hand to muffle the sound of his uneven breathing.

“Tomorrow—” Kageyama began, stopping when he heard his own hoarse voice. He cleared his throat. “After we practice at Ukai Senior’s—”

“Yes,” Shouyou breathed. He didn’t know what he was agreeing to, but the answer was yes.

Kageyama looked away, his face flushed red.

They didn’t dare make eye contact again for the rest of the trip, but Shouyou felt closer than ever.


	8. Always welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama Tobio remembers he's a teenager and does not, in fact, have a house to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why I'm updating as if my life depends on it, it's because the amazing person who has done several illustrations for this fic is the best motivator in the world and somehow gets me to do work sessions with her on skype. They're super motivating. So is the fact that she keeps drawing amazing fanart...
> 
> From chapter 7: http://rukiscroax.tumblr.com/post/96060490193/practice-matches-speedpaint-2-hours-done (sfw this time)
> 
> I haven't had time to reply to reviews, but seriously, your encouragement has made me melt. Whenever you say you liked a specific thing--or that you smile when you see an update--I just... ugh. okay, I can't say it. I'm getting too emotional, hahaha. Please excuse me--on with the chapter! Thank you as always.
> 
> ((Chapter contains sexy stuff. If it's making you uncomfortable, ctrl+f to "He couldn’t help feeling like Hinata"))

_Tomorrow_ , Tobio had said, as if he had a plan. He’d meant it, too. In that moment, with Hinata staring at him with his face flushed and his hand still ghosting over the skin of Tobio’s hip, some dumb-as-bricks part of Tobio had thought it might be possible to get Hinata alone so long as both of them were willing.

Fate wasn’t on their side, though.

“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?” his mother asked, smiling at Hinata fondly. She was his biggest fan, besides Tobio; whenever he was over her eyes brightened measurably.

That was good, Tobio supposed—but it meant she did things like offer to let them use the living room, when all Tobio wanted was an excuse to hole up in his bedroom with Hinata. He wished his father was home; he always hogged the TV when he was there, and his exhausted grunting would be bad company.

His mother would let them out of her sight, then.

“I—” Hinata said, glancing at Tobio, then back. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, always! You’re always welcome here.”

Tobio flushed. She didn’t have to sound quite _that_ sincere—but then, he didn’t disagree with the sentiment. Hinata grinned. “I’d love to, then.”

Tobio’s mother beamed, and Tobio drew Hinata back over to the couch.

“How are you so grumpy when your mother’s so nice?” Hinata asked, not quite quietly enough, and Tobio heard his mother stifling laughter.

“Shut up!”

“See, your mother wouldn’t tell me to shut up—”

There was outright laughter from where his mother sat at the kitchen table, and Tobio’s hand was already gripping Hinata’s hair. He glared, but his death glare didn’t quite seem to be working as it usually did; Hinata was looking up at him shyly.

Tobio drew his hand back as if he’d been burned. There was a sudden shift in his body, from taut resentment to breathless expectation. He’d sort of forgotten he wasn’t the only one frustrated to death at their inability to get time alone.

“I’ll win this time,” he mumbled, picking up his controller. They were playing Smash again, free for all this time, using randomly-assigned characters. They started a new game, and the button-mashing allowed him to get out some of his annoyance, even if it didn’t distract him from Hinata next to him. They’d both showered after practice—Hinata had gone home and then cycled back here—and Tobio could smell his shampoo even from this distance. It only served to remind him of how soft Hinata’s hair looked, how much he wanted to touch it.

“Hey,” Hinata said. “Do you think we’ll ever go to the Olympics? Both of us?”

“Where did that come from?” Tobio asked. On-screen, his character hit one of the NPCs with a frying pan.

“You asked if I’d compete with you on a world level. Is that what you meant?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Tobio said. “If you were going to beat me there, you’d have to play for another country, so that doesn’t work at all.”

Donkey Kong-Hinata stepped on a mine, flying across the screen. “Forget what I said about beating you. Is that where you want to go?”

“…I guess so.”

“Do you think I’d make it, too?”

“I hope so.”

“Aw,” his mother said, from somewhere behind them. “My baby, already planning for world domination in volleyball. You’d make it, Hinata-kun. Aren’t you the only one who can hit his tosses?”

Hinata brightened beside him. “The really fast ones, yeah.”

“See? Okay, now. I need to go head out and get some food for dinner, since we have a guest. Any requests?”

“Pork curry,” Tobio said, as Hinata shouted, “Not pork curry!”

“What?” Tobio asked, betrayal in his voice.

Hinata laughed. “Kidding.”

When Tobio glanced away from the screen, he saw that dewy, fond look on his mother’s face again. She leaned forward to kiss him on the top of his head, and—after a second of hesitation—did the same thing to Hinata.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, as if that was a good thing. “Be good, okay?”

They nodded as a unit and watched her open the front door—then watched her close it behind her. Five seconds passed—ten—and it seemed safe. Tobio pressed pause in the same second that Hinata tossed his controller onto the coffee table, turning to him. He had a second to lay his controller down before Hinata grabbed him and pulled him up from the couch, heading for his bedroom. Tobio’s heart was racing already, and he thought he might have a heart attack when he felt the door to his bedroom close behind him.

Hinata whirled on him, hands grabbing at the front of Tobio’s T-shirt to steady himself as he rose onto his tip toes, only managing to reach Tobio’s neck—that didn’t stop him from planting kisses there, though. Goosebumps rose up all over Tobio’s body, and he stiffened when he felt Hinata suck at a patch of skin.

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

“I can’t reach your mouth—”

“If you give me marks, she’ll see! Idiot!”

“So bend down a bit!”

“You’re pinning me—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mister Genius Setter. I didn’t realize I was strong enough to _pin_ you—”

Tobio growled, and with the force of his frustration he managed to get his limbs to work again, grabbing Hinata under his armpits and throwing him in the direction of the bed. Hinata bounced twice, looking slightly stunned and—red.

He looked _really_ embarrassed.

“What are you blushing about?” Tobio asked, raising a hand to cover his own blush. Idiot! Why did Hinata have to look up at him like that? He looked like—

Like what? Like he expected Tobio to rip off that shirt with the ridiculous bear logo and run his hands over the skin beneath it? Or was Tobio projecting his own desires?

“Come here,” Hinata said, still looking flushed. Tobio did as he was asked, kneeling down opposite Hinata gingerly, caught between pouncing and hiding his face. His breath was coming short.

Hinata shuffled forward, rising up so their faces were level. His breath was coming fast, too, and his pupils were blown wide. Tobio wasn’t sure who moved first, but they met in the middle, and he felt the softness of Hinata’s mouth against his a moment later. His hands came up to cup Hinata’s face, keeping him from moving away—not that Hinata was trying. Hinata’s mouth was forceful, more enthusiastic than skillful, but it was the perfect kiss where Tobio was concerned: breathless, not stopping.

The not stopping was key.

He pressed back, chasing the flick of Hinata’s tongue, the soft scrape of his teeth. His hand slid to the back of Hinata’s neck unconsciously, deepening the kiss. There was a sound—a moan—in response, and Tobio felt the muscles of his lower abdomen tighten. He wanted to pull Hinata forward onto his lap and thrust up against him, but even if he could get past his embarrassment he wasn’t sure he had the power in his arms to do so. His whole body felt shaky.

He gasped against Hinata’s mouth when he felt fingers twitching at the hem of his T-shirt. Hinata pulled back a bit. “Can I?” he breathed.

Tobio didn’t know. Could he? Could he raise his arms? He tried, and found it was possible. Hinata pushed the shirt up and over Tobio’s head, letting it fall against the bed once it was free. The way Hinata stared would have been flattering if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

“What?” Tobio said, looking away. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“That’s different,” Hinata said. His voice was breathy. “I didn’t know I liked you then.”

“You _didn’t_ like me then. Idiot.” And Tobio had been blissfully unaware of his own feelings, much of the time, even if something about Hinata had always made him uncomfortable.

“Hm. Maybe.”

Hinata leaned forward to kiss him, and this time it was Tobio twitching at the hem of Hinata’s T-shirt and Hinata raising his arms. Once the shirt was off and light, flushed skin was exposed Tobio fought the urge to run his hands down Hinata’s sides—to spread out his fingers and see how far he could span his hands around Hinata’s waist.

“You can touch me, y’know.”

Tobio looked up, heart pounding. Hinata was blushing, but there was a challenge in his eyes. He’d risen up higher on his knees, so that he was taller than Tobio, and Tobio’s fingers twitched at the sight of all that skin, aching to do as Hinata said.

Tobio swallowed, steeling himself.

He reached forward after a long, breathless moment, letting his hands slide along Hinata’s hips, over skin and beltloops, gliding up along his back to the bumps of his spine. Hinata let out shuddering breath, and Tobio leaned forward, trailing his mouth over the smooth skin of Hinata’s abdomen. He inhaled deeply, forgetting to be embarrassed in the total bliss of Hinata’s scent, Hinata’s skin.

Hands clenched in Tobio’s hair, tight, and the hips Tobio was embracing thrust forward, desperately.

“S-sorry,” Hinata said, a moment later, and Tobio swallowed with difficulty, letting his head rest against Hinata’s solar plexus.

 _Don’t apologize,_ he wanted to say. He wanted to be encouraging, the way Hinata was—to say things like _I like it_ and _it turns me on_. But it felt impossible—just as impossible as sitting up and pulling Hinata’s hips into his, pressing his own straining erection against the one in Hinata’s pants—showing him just how much he understood that helpless thrust of a moment ago. His throat felt thick with words he couldn’t quite choke out.

Or maybe—maybe he could be encouraging. Not verbally, but with his actions, though not as forcefully as he wanted to. He hooked his fingers into Hinata’s belt loops, no longer leaning, and guided Hinata forward into his lap. He’d—he’d feel it, if he moved just a little further forward. Tobio held his breath and closed that last bit of distance between them, pulling Hinata close, and he saw the moment it registered for Hinata.

“Hnh…” Hinata said unintelligibly, his mouth slack, his eyes closing for a moment before meeting Tobio’s, heavy lidded. “T-Tobio…”

Tobio forgot how to breathe.

Hinata rocked forward, just a little, drawing muffled gasps from both of them. Tobio’s forehead dropped to lean against Hinata’s, and he kept himself still through strength of will, afraid of moving a single inch. He’d never felt anything like this before, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He heard Hinata’s voice in his head: _Tobio…_

“You should sit properly,” Hinata said, kicking at his foot. “Not kneeling. I can’t move like this.”

“I d-don’t know if you _should_ move—”

Hinata kicked at his foot again, and this time Tobio moved to do as he said, his hands sliding down to hold Hinata up as he changed from a kneeling position to a sitting position. A flush of heat went through him at the way Hinata rolled up against him while he was shifting.

“Stop that! If you do that too much it’ll… get really awkward.”

“Why?” Hinata asked, sounding honestly confused. “Don’t you want to?”

“Yeah but—my mother could come back at any time…”

“So? We still have most of our clothes on; we can stop when we hear the door. And I really want to.” Large brown eyes implored Tobio, and Tobio flushed as Hinata reached back to press Tobio’s hands more firmly against his ass, rolling forward again. Tobio’s breath left him.

“See?” Hinata said. “You want it, too, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Even though his jeans felt uncomfortably tight. Even though it would leave a mess in his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to draw Hinata in and rut into him, to catch his mouth in a kiss—to bite on the pale skin of his neck until there were marks.

He could do all those things save the last.

“Tobio,” Hinata said, and again he felt like all his body functions might have stopped in the sound of his name on Hinata’s breath. “Please? Move?”

Tobio’s hands tightened on Hinata’s ass, pulling him in against his crotch, and he swallowed Hinata’s answering moan. His whole body felt shaky, but somehow he still had control over his limbs, and every move he made produced a countermove from Hinata, furtive and clumsy and enough to make Tobio’s head spin.

The kiss broke, and Hinata ducked his head to the side, mouthing at Tobio’s neck again.

“Don’t leave marks,” Tobio said breathlessly.

“I won’t. If…”

_There’s an if?_

“If you say my name.”

“I—can’t…”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Dumbass,” he managed, his abs clenching, the pressure mounting. His breathing stuttered as Hinata’s hands traveled down his chest, his palms so hot they felt like they were burning him. “How would you know what I want?”

“I want it.”

It was always Hinata’s wants that allowed him to give in to his own. He felt the name in his throat, in his whole body, waiting to be said. _Shouyou._ He ran his hands up along Hinata’s sides, over his arms, into his hair. Hinata looked at him, his lips red from kissing, his cheeks flushed.

Tobio looked away. “Sh—Shouyou…”

Hinata’s hips rolled forward into his. “Again,” he said, his voice low, his body straining to be closer to Tobio’s. It meant they were no longer facing each other, and Tobio could turn his face into the back of Hinata’s neck, close his eyes and feel all of Hinata pressed up against all of him.

“Shouyou,” he said again, a sigh this time, because it was allowed—because it was easier like this, when it seemed like maybe he was dreaming. Maybe Hinata’s warmth wasn’t soaking into him; maybe Hinata wasn’t rubbing up against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through his body. If he was dreaming, he wouldn’t have to take responsibility for his stuttering breaths, for the way his hand tightened in Hinata’s hair, the way every little gasp of Hinata’s breath brought him closer to release.

“Ah—” Hinata said. “I’m—ah—Tobio—”

“M-me too,” Tobio said.

Hinata moved, drawing back and away, and his hands came up along Tobio’s jaw, tilting his head—and then Hinata’s mouth descended on his, hungrily, messily, gasping. Hinata’s legs clenched around him, changing the angle, and with a stutter of his hips Tobio was coming, holding Hinata’s ass as he thrust, mind blank with pleasure. The taste of blood was in his mouth—had he bitten his lip?—but all he could focus on was Hinata clinging to him, no longer kissing but breathing the same warm air, his hands clenched in Tobio’s hair.

“Shouyou,” Tobio whispered, over and over until he silenced himself against Hinata’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses there. Hinata moaned—and then he began to twitch, jerking against Tobio with uneven movements, his breaths audible. His moans as he came sounded almost like sobs, and Tobio told himself to remember the hopeless cadence of Hinata’s voice, to replay later in his mind when he was alone and doubting himself.

He couldn’t help feeling like Hinata was the most precious thing in the world, right then. He couldn’t voice it— _not ever_ —but he felt it in every cell of his body, blasting through him as Hinata rode out his orgasm and began to slump against him, his breathing rough.

“You were loud,” Tobio whispered, unable to disguise the fondness in his voice. _I’m glad you were loud_ , he thought.

Hinata huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well.”

They both drew back, and Tobio fought the urge to look away. He wanted to remember what Hinata looked like right then: eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

“You’re not gonna scold me for being loud?” Hinata asked.

 _I liked it_ , he envisioned himself saying, but he couldn’t quite manage it, so he shook his head. The taste of blood was still in his mouth, and he held a finger up to his bottom lip.

“O-oh,” Hinata said. “You’re bleeding.”

“I must have bitten—”

“No, I think it was me—”

They both fell silent, eyes wide, and Hinata laughed. Tobio held up a hand to cover his smile, knowing it would probably look creepier than normal if his teeth were bloody, too.

“We need to—” Hinata started, motioning helplessly at their crotches. “Can I borrow underwear?”

“Yeah—in there—”

Hinata stumbled over to his closet, seeming to have trouble walking. “I’ll go clean up,” he said, grabbing a pair of boxers and darting out the door, his whole face flushed. Tobio fell back against the bed.

That had happened, hadn’t it?

He cleaned himself up, changing his underwear before donning the same dark jeans he’d been wearing, wondering if he’d ever be able to look at them the same way again. He was pulling his shirt back over his head when Hinata came back in.

“Wait,” Hinata said, and pressed his hands against Tobio’s abs, letting them slide upward. Tobio felt a flush travel up his neck.

“What are you…?”

“Appreciating,” Hinata said, with the hint of a pout. “I’m not going to be allowed to touch you when I see you in the dressing room tomorrow, so I need to do it now.”

Tobio saw the sense in that. He let the T-shirt sit bunched up at his armpits, busying himself with Hinata’s hair, curling it around his fingers gently. He felt a little guilty for pulling at it earlier—it was so soft in his hands—and something about it made his breath stick in his throat.

Hinata finished running his hands over Tobio’s chest and abs, moving to the bed to pick up his T-shirt. Tobio watched Hinata tug the shirt down over his back, feeling his mood dampen. Suddenly he understood why Hinata had stopped him from pulling his shirt down a moment ago.

He wanted to go on touching Hinata’s skin unhindered.

“I need to wash my hands,” Tobio said suddenly, making his escape. He felt really strange—like he wanted to cry, or something, but not in a sad way. In the bathroom he splashed his face and washed up, rinsing the blood from his mouth, and when he returned to the living room Hinata was sitting on the couch waiting for him.

“Do I have any marks?” Hinata asked. “You don’t, but—”

Tobio sat down next to him, examining his neck and hands. He shook his head, still finding it hard to speak.

Hinata smiled. “Good. You can’t notice your lip, either. Here, lie back.”

He pushed Tobio back against the couch arm, positioning his body with the air of an artist. When he was satisfied with how Tobio was lying, he slouched down, resting his head on Tobio’s chest. Tobio’s arms snaked up around him of their own volition.

“We’ll unpause the game when we hear the door,” Hinata mumbled into his chest. Again, Tobio felt that weird crying urge. He buried his face in the crown of Hinata’s head, nodding, thinking again that Hinata was precious in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable saying out loud.

“Hey,” Hinata said. “That was good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tobio said. Good. He didn’t sound like he was about to cry, after all.

“I wish we could stay like this all night.”

Tobio let out a shuddering sigh. How did Hinata always know what to say? He nodded again, arms tightening.

 _I love you_ , he thought as Hinata snuggled in close. Maybe that was why he felt like crying: that thought, thrumming through his veins and tightening his throat.

It wouldn’t be a sad kind of crying, though, if he did it.

Not that he would.


	9. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of all over the place; sorry for that!
> 
> Again I haven't taken the time to respond to comments even though they've been nothing short of amazing. I treasure every single one...
> 
> ...so I regret doing this to you, but I totally leave this chapter in a dick place. Feel free to wait to read until next chapter: cliffhanger ahead. (although... not a bad one imo? but maybe a bad one in your opinion, so eh, forewarned is forearmed)

Tobio was warm when he woke up, his whole body heavy with a mix of tiredness and wellbeing. Savory smells drifted over from the kitchen, and his stomach growled emptily. _Wow_ that smelled good. He could just about taste it on the air, and he took a deep breath.

The gulp of oxygen seemed to restore his senses, realization crashing over him. The peaceful, drifty feeling from a moment ago disappeared as he registered the situation: he was still lying on the couch with Hinata, and his mother was back.

She’d left them like this when she came in, for whatever reason.

He must have made some sound, or she was watching, because she came over a second later, before he could decide how to respond. Did he push Hinata off the couch? That would only incriminate them more, but—

His mother’s cool hand came down to push his bangs back from his forehead, fingers threading through his hair in a comforting motion. He watched her face, looking down on him from over the back of the couch, and didn’t quite know how to breathe.

“It’s fine,” she said, in a soft voice. “But we’ll talk later, okay? After Hinata-kun goes home.”

Several possible responses rose to his lips. He wanted to say something to explain away the situation— _he fell asleep like this—it’s not what it looks like_ —but as it _was_ what it looked like, what he most wanted to say was: _you don’t mind?_

But he didn’t know what she assumed had happened, and so anything he said would only make things worse. He nodded tightly, not speaking at all. She smiled, and bent down to kiss his scalp.

He sighed shallowly as she walked back to the kitchen, his stomach tight now instead of empty. She’d patted his hair and kissed his head—obviously she wasn’t angry, but—maybe disappointed? Or confused? Or intent on talking him out of this calmly?

Never mind his stomach being tight, or empty; it was full of snakes.

He took great care to move Hinata off him, pretending to have woken up earlier and covered for him. Hinata didn’t have to know anything yet, not when everything was still unsure. By the time Hinata woke up fully, Tobio was playing Smash by himself, on the end of the couch.

“Ah! I fell asleep!” Hinata said, sitting up abruptly. “Ahh—it smells so good in here!”

“Well, you woke up at just the right time,” Tobio’s mother said, smiling like everything was normal. “It’s ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

If the meal had been anything but pork curry, Tobio wouldn’t have been able to get it down his throat. As it was, he struggled through the dinner, trying to ignore the rosy look on Hinata’s face—the way his eyes seemed just a bit more expressive, the gentle, assessing glances he sent at Tobio when his mother wasn’t looking. He looked like he was glowing.

There was a glow in Tobio, too, beneath the surface, but crushing worries kept it at bay. When Hinata brushed his hand on the way out the door at the end of the evening, that rosy look still on his face, Tobio swallowed hard. He thought maybe he should have explained to Hinata, but—what would that achieve? What was there to tell?

The door closed behind Hinata, and Tobio turned. His mother was on the couch, reading something on her phone with the air of someone trying to look busy. He sighed and walked over, and she patted the seat of the couch next to her, drawing her legs up so she could face him. Tobio sat down rigidly.

“You and Hinata are dating,” she said, echoing Sugawara. “Aren’t you?”

“I—we—”

“That’s not a problem for me,” she said. “As long as you’re happy I am.”

There was a heavy _but_ in her voice, and Tobio waited for it, even as the tight feeling in his stomach eased just a little.

“Well? You haven’t answered my question yet. Are you dating? Should I continue?”

He nodded, figuring that it did no good to lie. _Yes, we’re dating._

“ _But_ ,” she said, at long last, “You’re young, and if you had a girlfriend over I wouldn’t leave the two of you alone together either. Just because no one can get pregnant doesn’t mean no one can get hurt.”

“One of the upperclassmen in the team already talked to us—”

“Hmmm? And is he your mother?”

“N-no…”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to suffer for my mistakes,” she said. “When I was your age, I had sex before I was ready. It changed a relationship I treasured into something else—something I wasn’t emotionally prepared for. And I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Tobio lied. “You can trust me—”

“No I can’t,” she said, smiling. “I do remember what it’s like to be young and in love, you know.”

Tobio’s cheeks reddened. She was right; she shouldn’t trust him.

“So for the time being, no having Hinata over while your dad and I are gone. It won’t kill you to take things slow, I promise.”

Tobio was so annoyed at the new edict he almost forgot that he’d feared much worse. His eyebrows drew together as he asked, “So you’re not upset? About… me being…”

“Gay?” she said, and it went straight through him; so far, Tobio had managed not to think of that word in reference to himself, even though he was fairly sure the shoe fit. “I had my suspicions, you know. Parents do notice these things—not that I was sure.”

 “So does dad… suspect…?”

This time it was her turn to look uncomfortable. “ _Some_ parents notice, I should say. He still… well. I think maybe it would be better to tell him later, when he’s seen how happy Hinata makes you. But we’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart.”

There was a lump in Tobio’s throat. It was stupid; here his mother was, accepting him out of hand, and suddenly the idea that his father might not made him feel weak with fear. “I don’t want to tell him…”

“Tobio,” she said, leaning forward to cup his face with her hand. “We love you. You could tell your father tomorrow if you wanted to; the only thing I’m concerned about here is getting him used to the idea. Let me work on him slowly.”

“So you think he’d be against it, if we told him now?”

“He’s an old-fashioned grump; you know that. He has plans for you that are going to have to change. That’s not your problem.”

 “What plans?”

She groaned. “He keeps bragging about you to his colleagues. He’s convinced that you’re going to marry his boss’s daughter so he can get promoted. She’s five years older than you, you know.”

“And you don’t care if I marry?”

“I care if you’re happy,” she said, ruffling his hair before standing up. “But no sex until you’re older! Understand that?”

His eyes narrowed. She’d walked halfway to the kitchen, but when he didn’t respond she turned to look at him. “Well?” she asked, obviously waiting.

“No having Hinata here alone,” Tobio mumbled, his eyes sliding away from his mother’s stern gaze. He wouldn’t confirm the no-sex thing; he could still imagine Hinata’s soft skin under his hands, the way his voice sounded as he started to come. Now that he was no longer worried about his mother telling him to break up with Hinata, the floating, warm feeling from earlier had returned, punctuated by new need.

“No sex,” his mother said.

“No having Hinata here alone.” This time, his voice was more solid, even if he was blushing.

“Ugh,” his mother said, though he could see she was smiling just a little, too. “You really are a teenager, after all.”

 

* * *

 

 

**You:**

_My mother caught us sleeping on the couch earlier. She’s okay with it but we're not telling dad yet_

**Hinata:**

_!!! why didn’t you tell me???_

**You:**

_Wasn’t sure what she knew. It's okay right?_

**Hinata:**

_Yeah, if you say so! But you should tell me next time k?_

**You:**

_Ok_

**Hinata:**

_Thinking of you lots (:_

Tobio blushed at his phone, trying to ignore the flutters Hinata’s words caused in his stomach. He kept remembering things when he thought of Hinata now, the impressions fresh in his mind—his scent, his voice, his skin. It was distracting, especially when Tobio was trying to finish a weekend’s worth of homework on a Sunday night.

He looked at Hinata’s name in his phone, and suddenly the urge to change it was too great. He’d said his first name, now; Hinata had asked him to. So—he could change the name in his phone too, right?

 **Hinata** became **Shouyou** , and Tobio fought the urge to change it right back. No one would know; he could have Hinata’s first name in his phone, couldn’t he? Just for himself? His phone buzzed, and it put an end to the moral dilemma: he could.

 **Shouyou** :

_Will you come to school early again?_

**You** :

_Yeah_

Tobio wondered how he’d be able to wait that long.

 

* * *

 

 

It became their routine to meet up half an hour early for practice, when the world was dark and no one else could be seen on school property. Their club room key had been turned in because someone else needed it, and Hinata was hatching a plan to steal it back from one of the upperclassmen and have it copied so they could meet in there, but so far their only option was to sneak around outside in the cold.

They were never very cold when they were sneaking around, though.

“I want to do it again,” Hinata said on Thursday morning, two days from their next official match. He’d been more forceful than usual when he arrived at the gym, jumping up onto Tobio and clamping his surprisingly strong legs around his middle. His mouth had been wet and warm in Tobio’s neck up until a minute ago, and Tobio was faintly dizzy with how close Hinata was. He kept having to swallow and remind himself they were in public, especially when Hinata squirmed against him.

“Sorry. We shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

“We could— _hmm_. Invent a prize show, and have my mother and Natsu win it. A trip or something.”

For a moment it seemed like a brilliant idea, before Tobio remembered reality. “We have no money, dumbass. And they would bring you too if they won a trip.”

Hinata gasped. “That’s it! _We_ should go on a trip! Something cheap.”

“Like my mother would let me. I told you, she—”

“With the volleyball team! Or—not with them. But pretending to go with them? Or with them, as long as we have private rooms…”

Tobio imagined the team overhearing Hinata’s moans and shivered. No—he wasn’t sharing that with anyone.

“The plan needs work,” Hinata said, slumping against Tobio. His breath was warm in his neck, and Tobio shivered with an entirely different feeling as Hinata nuzzled into him. “I just… really…”

Whatever Hinata was about to say, it fled his mind as they heard footsteps approaching the gym. Hinata hopped down, and by the time Daichi and Sugawara walked up their faces were red from the cold only.

“So early,” Sugawara said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“He keeps getting here earlier, so I have to, too,” Hinata said, pointing accusingly. It would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the pleased tone Hinata used. “If you gave us the club room key, we wouldn’t have to freeze…”

“Tell you what,” Daichi said, “Win the matches on Saturday, and I’ll have a copy made. Deal?”

“But all the upperclassmen already have one—”

Tobio thwacked Hinata. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Looking good, Kageyama.”

Tobio turned away from the volleyball cart, eyebrows drawing together. _What?_ Tsukishima was using his teasing voice, but Tobio hadn’t done anything. His toss was perfect—his hair was brushed—why did Tsukishima sound like that?

Yamaguchi sniggered, further disconcerting him. Tobio ran a hand over the back of his shirt, searching for a “kick me” sign—but there wasn’t one.

He shrugged the strange comment off, trying not to notice the smirks Tsukishima sent his way throughout practice. He was used to Tsukishima’s smirks, anyway—but he wasn’t quite prepared for Tanaka’s intent stares, and the way he and Nishinoya kept whispering when they were supposed to be practicing. Asahi didn’t seem to be looking at him at all, and missed two out of ten spikes.

What was going on?

“Some guys have all the luck,” Tanaka mumbled later, in the club room as they were changing. “Hey, Kageyama, how tall are you?”

“180 centimeters,” he said, wishing Hinata hadn’t run off so quickly. He’d wanted to ask him if his hair looked weird at the back, the way it sometimes did when he slept with his hair wet. He’d run his hands back over it several times now, but he could never be sure.

“It makes me want to cry,” Nishinoya said. “You know, I once had a dream I was two meters tall, and—”

Sugawara came up next to Tobio as he pulled on his shoes. “Don’t let them get to you, Kageyama-kun. They’re just jealous.”

Tobio was perplexed. “But Azumane-san and Tsukishima are taller.”

Sugawara smiled fondly, saying nothing.

“Have you received any love letters?” Nishinoya asked, pausing in his explanation of the dream about being tall. He was clutching his knee pads to his chest. “Confessions behind the gym? _Oh_! Scented love letters?”

“Ha?!”

Tanaka sniffed. “As your senpai, I’m insulted that you wouldn’t tell me. But don’t think you’re the only one! I’m very popular, you know.”

Nishinoya clapped Tanaka on the shoulder, solidarity in every line of his posture. Meanwhile, Tsukishima was shaking with laughter, and Tobio bit back a growl.

He’d ask Hinata about it during lunch, he thought as he left the club room.

 

* * *

 

 

At lunch, though, Hinata was nowhere to be found, and everything was just getting worse. There were giggles and pointed stares from people he barely knew. He caught one girl looking at him with a dreamy expression during class, and even the math teacher gave him a weird look at one point.

 _I have something on my face_ , he thought, humiliated. _I definitely have something on my face_.

Why hadn’t Hinata told him this morning?

He rubbed at his jaw all through Japanese class, and at his nose, trying to surreptitiously remove whatever dirt might have collected there. By the time the day’s lessons ended his face felt raw with constant scrubbing, and he was severely pissed off at Hinata for being missing.

Before going to the club room, he stopped off at the bathroom nearest it to make sure he’d gotten whatever it was off his face. Fluorescent lights illuminated slightly pink skin—but nothing out of the ordinary. He was turning away from the mirror when he saw it.

He wanted the tile floor to swallow him up. He wanted to find Hinata and shake him until his teeth rattled. Oh god, the whole team had seen— _everyone_ —they’d been _joking_ about it—

Just as he was about to slam his head into the sink and let unconsciousness release him from his humiliation—or at least seriously considering it—he heard Hinata’s voice outside, talking to Yachi. He stormed out of the bathroom, caught hold of Hinata’s arm, and pulled him in, ignoring the horrified look on Yachi’s face. The door closed large and solid behind them, and they were left alone.

Tobio took a deep breath.

“A _hickey_ , Hinata? _You left me a hickey, you dumbass! Everyone saw!_ ”

“Ouch—you’re gripping too hard—”

Tobio used both hands to hold Hinata’s upper arms, lifting him onto his toes and shaking. “ _You made me walk around the school—made me practice—with an effing hickey!_ ”

“Ow! I know, okay?! I’ve been trying to find you concealer—it’s hard, you know! Less girls bring make-up to school than you’d think!”

“ _I wouldn’t need concealer in the first place if you hadn’t_ —wait, what? You knew? You saw?”

Hinata avoided his gaze.

“ _You knew and you didn’t tell me?!_ Hinata, I swear to god _—_ ”

A sudden _thunk_ against his head made him drop Hinata—whom he’d lifted almost a foot by that point—and he rubbed his forehead, stumbling back. “Ouch!”

“Well, you wouldn’t stop shouting!” Hinata said. He was rubbing his forehead too after his headbutt. “I’m sorry, okay? I was really excited to see you this morning. Like, _really_ excited. And I guess maybe I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have.”

“My parents’ll see—”

“No they won’t! Yachi is finding you concealer, okay? It’s fine!”

“It’s not fine! The whole team saw!”

“Yeah, well, if we told them it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“It would still be a big deal to me,” Tobio said, but he felt the fight drain out of him. “Dumbass. Let’s just get this practice over with.”

Hinata looked relieved, and they trudged up the stairs to the club room together, Tobio’s hand over his neck. Thinking about the mark still made him want to push Hinata over the railing, but he hadn’t noticed it being left either—he’d been distracted by all the sensations flooding his body. When it came down to it, it was something of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. He took a deep breath as they came to the door of the clubroom, his hand on the metal knob.

There was a change in the air inside when Tobio pushed open the door, and he saw Tsukishima glance at him and then away, shoulders starting to shake.

He fought the urge to growl, wondering if he was supposed to apologize for distracting the team.

“Hey!” Nishinoya said, grinning. “Mr. Popular’s back!”

“And he’s noticed,” Sugawara said, looking just a little guilty at the sight of Tobio’s hand covering the hickey. Tanaka swaggered over with his shirt off, seeming to pose for no reason.

“He’s not the only one who’s popular, you know!”

Tobio looked up in confusion at his pointed tone, and noticed a red mark on Tanaka’s shoulder, held out proudly for the world to see. His own face flamed, though Tanaka had a smug look on his face. Nishinoya ooh-ed and ahh-ed appreciatively.

“You did that yourself, didn’t you?” Sugawara asked dryly.

“Ha?! I—” Tanaka looked ready to deny the charge, but he caught sight of Daichi’s flat stare and jumped back, his hands up. “Yeah, yeah, okay! It was an experiment.”

“An experiment for what?” Tsukushima asked.

Tanaka pulled on the shirt, and lifted a finger proudly. “To see how hard you have to suck!”

“Ah, of course!” Nishinoya said, looking impressed. “And?”

“It’s not about how hard! It’s about catching the right angle.” He folded his arms and nodded sagely. Daichi, meanwhile, looked ready to strangle him.

“So it could be anyone?” Nishinoya said.

“It could.”

Tobio tried not to listen while he walked to his locker and started changing, but everyone was making a point to speak in his direction. He knew he was beet red, and he tried very hard not to look at Hinata. He felt rather than saw Tanaka creep up on him as he pulled on his shorts.

“So who was it, Kageyama?”

Tobio shivered at the dark tone. “It wasn’t anyone,” he said. “I… stabbed myself in the neck with a pencil. By accident.”

There was a howl of laughter from Tsukishima, enough to make Tobio jump. Had he _ever_ heard Tsukishima laugh like that?

“Don’t be shy, Kageyama!” Tanaka said. “At least share the story with your senpais! Is she pretty? Are you dating? Was it a one-time thing? How’d you meet? How’d you get her to like you? Is it your height?”

Tobio’s shoulders rose, and he despaired when Nishinoya moved closer. “It was probably his height—girls love tall sulky guys. Was she a first year? A _second_ year?”

Was he allowed to faint against the locker?

“Not a third year?” Tanaka said, somewhere between horror and admiration. “Not anyone we know, right? Not anyone connected to the _volleyball team_ , in particular?”

“Not Kiyoko-san!” Nishinoya cried.

“ _No!_ ” Tobio shouted, horrified even at the idea. What he felt for Shimizu was so incredibly platonic the thought of her mouth on him in any sexual way was terrifying.

Tanaka and Nishinoya stopped drawing closer for a moment, temporarily floored by relief. Tobio felt vaguely sorry for anyone who _did_ end up dating Shimizu—not to mention Shimizu herself.

They recovered too quickly.

“Well?” they said in stereo. “If not Kiyoko-san, who is it?”

 “Hey,” Sugawara said, at long last. “Leave him alone.”

Nishinoya frowned at Sugawara. “If _I_ had a girlfriend, I’d tell everyone.” He turned back to Tobio. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” Tobio said, at the same time as Hinata said, “It was me.”

Heads swiveled. “What?”

“It was me,” Hinata said, folding his arms. “You got a problem with that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hickey idea credit goes to Rukis... I'm sorry it didn't turn out as funny as we imagined it. :P But I DID give myself a hickey on the shoulder for this chapter, like a total idiot, so I hope everyone enjoyed at least a bit!


	10. Concealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team questions their oddball duo and Yachi is an excellent manager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the support and all the hilarious/sweet/grossly misspelled messages. I appreciate every one.
> 
> If you notice something weird in the text (words spliced, etc) please let me know because the highlighting function on my mouse is acting up.

“What?” Tanaka said, huffing a laugh. “Did he piss you off?”

Shouyou bristled. “No.”

“We should get on with practice," Daichi said. "Half the team’s already in the gym…”

“Might be a bad time,” Sugawara said, laying a hand on Daichi’s arm. “You go ahead.”

Daichi nodded and left, and Shouyou wondered why he seemed so calm and unsurprised—then he remembered Kageyama saying Daichi probably already knew. Shouyou looked at Kageyama, wondering what he made of the situation, whether he wanted to kill Shouyou now that he’d blurted out the truth.

Kageyama looked greenish, not capable of killing anyone even if he wanted to. He was staring at the ground while most of the room’s occupants stared at him and Hinata; not counting Daichi and Sugawara, there were five witnesses to the confession: Tanaka and Nishinoya, blinking at them in puzzlement and waiting as if for a joke, Asahi, avoiding all eye contact, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were—surprisingly—completely silent.

Well, everyone was completely silent.

“What?” Sugawara said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “None of you noticed?”

Shouyou looked at Sugawara, relieved at his playful tone, the way he made it seem like the team was at fault for not noticing something so obvious.

“Ehhh?” Nishinoya uttered, grabbing at Shouyou’s shoulders. “You like boys, Shouyou?”

“Y-yeah! Is there a problem?!”

“But I’ve seen you look at girls!”

“I like them too!”

“Hmm,” Nishinoya said, letting go. He looked like he was figuring out a difficult math problem. “But you’re a guy… so, if you can choose either, a guy would be easier to understand. Hm, that makes sense.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” Tsukishima said dryly. “And not everyone is as hopeless with girls as y—”

Nishinoya ran at him, and Tsukishima jumped back. Sugawara’s laugh cut some of the tension, but Tanaka was still looking back and forth between Kageyama and Shouyou.

“How long?” he asked, completely serious. There was a crease between his brows. “If you’ve been dating, how long?”

“Three weeks?” Shouyou said.

The crease disappeared, relief taking its place on Tanaka’s face. “Oh, that’s fine then.”

Shouyou blinked. “It is?”

“Yeah—because if it made a difference on the court I’d have noticed by now, since it’s been three weeks. And at the same time it hasn’t been so long that it’s weird you didn’t tell us.”

Kageyama’s color started returning to normal. “You don’t mind?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Tanaka clapped him on the back. “Nah! More girls for me!” His wide grin suggested that was a very good thing indeed. “Especially at nationals.”

Shouyou laughed. “Yeah, nationals!”

“So are we all good?” Sugawara asked, looking around. Asahi and Yamaguchi still hadn’t said anything—but Asahi mainly looked embarrassed at being caught in a tense situation, and Yamaguchi seemed like he either didn’t care or was waiting for Tsukishima to have an opinion.

Which Tsukishima… didn’t seem to have. His face was neutral as he stuffed his uniform into the locker and turned, and Shouyou wondered if he was waiting until they were alone to break out the gay jokes.

“Yeah,” he said, his bored tone lending truth to the statement. “Can we go now?”

“Mm,” Sugawara said. “Let’s have a good practice.”

 

 

They did have a good practice, even if all the team members who’d witnessed the club room scene—minus Tanaka and Nishinoya—were a little more cautious. Shouyou pretended not to notice Asahi’s surreptitious glances, even though he wondered what was behind them. Concern? Disgust? He wished he could just ask, but they hadn’t told _everyone_ —hadn’t even meant to tell anyone. He wondered if Kageyama was upset with him for that.

It felt wrong to keep it from the team, though. Especially when it made him happy. He didn’t want to seem like he was embarrassed about being with Kageyama, and he _hated_ the thought that Kageyama might be embarrassed about being with him.

He also hated the idea that some girl could have left that mark, which was what had prompted the confession in the first place. He didn’t want to imagine what that would be like, or look like. The thought of Kageyama looking at another person the way he looked at Shouyou turned his stomach.

 _Kageyama is mine_ , he thought, and a flash of heat went through him. It was probably a stupid thought—he couldn’t hold Kageyama down and force him to stay—but he couldn’t quell the strange possessive feelings that had been rising up ever since the team started asking Kageyama about girls.

“Okay, time to clear up!” Daichi called, at the end of practice when they were all ready to drop. “Please stay after—I have the itinerary for Friday and Saturday, and we need to go over it together.”

There was a cheer, then: “Is the place we’re staying at nice?”

“Nope,” Daichi said cheerfully. “Standard fare. You want nice hotels, get your parents to donate to the school.”

Someone groaned, and Shouyou was tempted to join in. If they stayed in a hotel, maybe he and Kageyama could share a room, just the two of them. The thought set his cheeks flaming, and if there was anything that made him wish he was an adult it was that: the idea that, if he wasn’t sixteen years old and in high school, he could be doing all sorts of things he couldn’t do now: namely, talking Kageyama into things. He knew he wasn’t imagining Kageyama’s eagerness; their morning kisses were forceful, sometimes bruising. _Sometimes marking_ , Shouyou thought, and flinched a little. He really hadn’t meant to leave a mark, even if it had made him flash hot and cold pleasantly when he saw it in practice later. Seeing traces of himself on Kageyama’s skin did strange things to him; it was getting harder and harder to convince himself he wasn’t some kind of pervert. Or maybe his feelings were normal?

They finished putting away the net and sweeping the floors, and Shouyou joined the team at the west end of the gym. Daichi had printouts in his hand and was talking to Sugawara in a low voice.

“Right,” Daichi said, to Sugawara or the team Shouyou wasn’t sure. He turned to face them as Sugawara started to pass out the papers Daichi had been holding. “We won’t have practice on Friday, so I’m expecting you all to go home and get everything you need before we get on the bus at five, but if you don’t have time I’ll let you store stuff in the club room. Five _sharp_ , mind. Our lodging house is close to the gym—a five minute walk—and we’ll be eating there that night and morning. The address is on the paper in case your parents need it. What else?”

“What are the sleeping arrangements?” Tanaka asked, seeming to bounce. “One big room again?”

“Yep. Anyone who snores better clear their nasal passages before bed.”

“Says the steam engine,” Tsukishima mumbled, and Shouyou saw Sugawara hide a smile. Daichi was the worst snorer of the group, though he insisted he wasn’t. Shouyou hoped their vice-captain would convince him otherwise.

“ _Ahem_ ,” Daichi said. “As I was saying, try not to snore. It’s important we all get enough sleep. This isn’t going to be easy—we have to be our best.”

He looked around at them all, then seemed to single out Kageyama in the crowd. He nodded, for whatever reason, then continued.

“Which brings us to the next topic, which some of you already know because of earlier. I don’t want any rumors affecting our teamwork. It changes nothing for us here—but Kageyama and Hinata are in a lovey-dovey sort of relationship now, and have been for a little while, and since it’s in the open now I just want to say that whatever your feelings are on the subject, they stay outside of club activities. It hasn’t changed their behavior on the court, and I don’t expect it to change yours. If it does, you’ll have me to answer to.”

Shouyou felt an awkward, squirming sensation in his belly. He felt his teammates glance at him and Kageyama, questions in their eyes. Kageyama was blushing and looking down, but he straightened when Tanaka gave him a slap on the back, seeming to knock the tension right out of the air. Smiles appeared on their teammates faces, and muscles loosened. Shouyou saw Kageyama swallow.

“Is that clear?” Daichi asked, and there were “yes”-es and more slaps on the back, along with awkward head-ducking. “Good! I think that’s all, unless… Suga?”

“Nope, you didn’t forget anything.” Sugawara smiled brightly. “I’m looking forward to a great weekend.”

“Nationals!” Nishinoya shouted, which led to Tanaka picking him up and lifting him, which led to more shouts of “Nationals” until Daichi growled at them.

“Eyes _straight_ ahead,” he said. “Coach Ukai told me to tell you that.”

“Where is he?”

“Minding his own business, like you should,” Daichi said, but there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Is he arranging something for us?” Nishinoya asked. “A surprise?!”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you,” Sugawara said, which functioned in the same way as saying _it’s a surprise_. Shouyou felt excitement burning in his stomach.

“Anyway, that’s all for today,” Daichi said. “Get lots of sleep tonight, too, before our last practice. I want you at your absolute fighting best in the official matches.”

There was a clear cry of agreement to that, and the group dispersed. Shouyou saw Yachi at the side of the gym, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she tried to see around the cluster of volleyball players. Shouyou grabbed Kageyama and pulled him in her direction.

“What?” Kageyama asked. He sounded exhausted, and Shouyou doubted it was because of practice. Had the hickey and the club reveal bothered him so much?

Of course it had. Shouyou felt a fresh wave of guilt as he pulled him over to Yachi.

“I got you the concealer,” she said. “Ah—Kageyama-kun, would you like help putting it on? I can show you.”

Kageyama was blushing again, his gaze lowered. “Showing would be good, I guess.”

Shouyou nudged him, wanting to make him stop looking so downtrodden. “Hey, it could be fun. Like costume make-up!”

Kageyama just sighed, which was a bad sign. Shouyou had been hoping for a head grab.

“Here,” Yachi said, leading the way out of the gym. “We’ll use the girls’ bathroom, since there won’t be anyone from the team in there. I’ll check first.”

She left them standing outside the outbuilding, and Shouyou looked up at Kageyama again. “Were you okay with that announcement at the end?” he asked. “I… didn’t know Daichi would say.”

“He asked me,” Kageyama said. “If it was okay to say. I said yes.”

“Oh!” Shouyou’s mouth was hanging open, he knew, and he tried to close it. “I didn’t know that.”

He wanted to add an apology, for springing the confession on people without consulting him, but at that moment Yachi reappeared and beckoned them in. The bathroom was the same as the boys’ one, except for a lack of urinals. There was a big, one-panel mirror opposite the sinks, and an ugly, fluorescent light overhead. The hickey he’d left on Kageyama’s neck looked even worse here—bigger, and purpler.

“Okay,” Yachi said. “So I have two things here—a base green concealer, because it takes out the red color, a concealer that sort of matches your skin, and setting powder. I’ll give you them so you can do this yourself if—” she flinched a little at Kageyama’s intense expression, looking away “—you want to…”

“How long…” Kageyama said, trailing off. He pointed at the mark on his neck.

Yachi didn’t meet his eyes. “Ah, how long do they stay? They, uh, fade over the course of two weeks… is what I read…”

Shouyou shivered under Kageyama’s glare. “It really wasn’t on purpose,” he mumbled, worried he’d really overstepped this time. He was used to having Kageyama mad at him, but he wasn’t used to there being a legitimate, non-volleyball reason for it, and the thought of having messed up big-time scared him.

Kageyama sighed and turned back to Yachi. “Show me?”

She did, wiping his neck to get sweat off before breaking out the make-up. She mentioned what she was doing at each turn, her instructions clear, even though she kept pausing to say that she wasn’t an expert. Shouyou watched carefully, thinking maybe he could help Kageyama do this on the trip at least to make up for being the cause of the mark.

The absolutely mortified expression on Kageyama’s face kept Shouyou from cracking a joke about the setting powder as Yachi made the finishing touches, and soon Yachi was putting the stuff away in a little purse, which she handed to Kageyama.

“Thank you,” he said, and she laughed nervously.

“What are managers for, right? I’m sure Kiyoko-san would have been better at it…”

“No way!” Shouyou said. “I would have been _way_ more intimidated to ask her for help. You’re the best, Yachi-san.”

She ducked her head. “Glad I could help.”

Together they exited the girls’ bathroom, and Yachi waved them goodbye as they trudged up to the club room, passing departing team members on the way. The concealer thing must have taken longer than Shouyou thought, because by the time they got to the club room only Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were left, speaking in quiet voices. Their conversation stopped when Shouyou and Kageyama entered the room.

The silence wore on Shouyou’s patience—then frayed it.

“Well?” he said, putting his hands on his hips. He was done trying to guess what was going on in people’s heads; he wanted answers. “Are you going to say something?”

“What?” Tsukishima asked, in a you-are-worse-than-the-dirt-on-my-shoes voice.

“I don’t know—you always make fun of us, so—”

“Ew,” Tsukishima said. “I make fun of you because you’re unicellular idiots. I’m not a bigot.”

“A—a what?”

“You just had to go and prove it,” he said, sighing. “Learn to use a dictionary, okay? Online or offline, doesn’t matter.”

For a short moment Shouyou thought he was going to leave it there and not explain, but then Tsukishima continued: “It’s someone who hates people for stupid reasons, like their race or sexual preference. I, however, have good reasons for hating you individually. So don’t be insulting.”

Yamaguchi stifled a laugh.

“Oh,” Shouyou said. He looked up at Tsukishima—who _did_ seem to be looking at him the same way he always did—and felt a small surge of relief. “Well, that’s fine, then.”

“Thanks for your _permission_. Now if you’ll move?”

Shouyou stepped out of the doorway, and he and Kageyama were left alone. He felt a little silly, having geared up for a fight only to be left hanging—but there was a small bubble of affection in his gut.

Tsukishima wasn’t so bad. He was nice, in his own horrible way.

“That was strange,” Shouyou said.

Kageyama paused in pulling on his jacket. “Yeah. I sort of thought he’d be worse.”

Shouyou shuffled his feet, looking at Kageyama. “And you’re not angry at me?”

“I’m—” Kageyama started, and Shouyou waited—except in the next moment Kageyama seemed to collapse inwards, catching himself on his hands as he dropped down to sit, then placing his head between his knees. He groaned. “Don’t look.”

“Um,” Shouyou said, not obeying, “Why?”

Kageyama groaned in response, and belatedly Shouyou realized that maybe this posture wasn’t entirely voluntary.

“Wait, are you sick? Do you need a nurse? Oh god, if you die—”

“I’m not dying, dumbass!”

_So you say, but that had zero force behind it._

“So if you pass out, what do I do? Just in case?”

“Throw yourself off that balcony and leave me in peace.”

“You don’t mean that,” Shouyou grumbled.

“No. I don’t.”

Well, that was nice to hear, except for the fact that Kageyama’s voice was pretty pathetic—almost a whisper. Shouyou rushed to grab water from his bag, and he held the bottle under Kageyama’s bent knees.

“Drink? Maybe?”

He shook his head weakly. “I’ll throw up.”

“Okay,” Shouyou said, stoppering the bottle and lying down on his back next to his incapacitated boyfriend. “I guess I didn’t realize how worried you were about this. Not the whole way.”

“I didn’t either.”

“But everyone reacted pretty well! I mean, not _everyone_ …” He thought of the people who had been quiet, or awkward. That didn’t exactly spell disapproval, though—if he found out his team members were in a relationship he might be too stunned to speak, too.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop talking?”

“No.”

“Is there anything else you’re worried about? Like, not trusting me, or… on the court…”

“Maybe…”

“Yes?” Shouyou propped himself up on his elbows. Kageyama’s face was hidden behind his arms, but his voice was clear:

“It’s both for you, right? Guys and girls?”

“Mm. Yeah. I guess I didn’t know about the guys part until recently, though. Not for you?”

A tiny shake of his mostly hidden head. Shouyou waited for another question, to explain the first, but it wasn’t forthcoming. He scrunched up his face and lay back against the tatami, trying to think.

“You’re worried I’ll want a girlfriend?”

There was a small noise of assent.

“That’s stupid.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! It’s like… if I liked some other sport, alongside volleyball. That maybe I thought about playing from time to time. I picked volleyball, so what does it matter? I don’t need a different sport.”

“You might get bored.”

Shouyou thought of the amazing feeling he got in his chest whenever he spiked Kageyama’s tosses, the euphoria after scoring a point. He thought of standing on the court with Kageyama, each of them conscious of the other, their bodies moving in sync while opposing teams complained about their quick. He thought of Kageyama’s hands sliding along his neck into his hair, uneven breaths—and then he had to stop thinking abruptly.

“That won’t happen,” he said.

“Everyone always says that before it happens, dumbass.”

Shouyou looked up. Kageyama sounded better, and he’d raised his head just slightly to glare. Shouyou grinned.

“What?” Kageyama growled.

The grin widened. “I’m happy you’re feeling better.”

“I’m not…” he trailed off. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Shouyou sat up, scooting close so he was able to nuzzle the side of Kageyama’s face. “I really am sorry, you know. I just hated them talking about you being with someone else.”

“You—don’t say embarrassing things like that!” Kageyama covered the bottom half of his face with his hand, looking away. “We had to tell them eventually, anyway.”

“Hey, have you noticed?”                                                   

“Eh?”

Shouyou leaned in, whispering, “We’re alone.”

He dodged the hand that shot out to clamp down on his head, but the full body slam that came next was unexpected. He went down, Kageyama’s full weight pinning him, and he expected to be tickled, or maybe kissed if he was lucky—but all Kageyama did was hold his wrists and lay his head on Shouyou’s chest.

“Heavy,” Shouyou complained, feeling a strain in his lungs. It wasn’t all because of the weight.

“Bony,” Kageyama countered.

Shouyou sighed. They were alone, but Sugawara or Daichi would be coming back to lock up soon. He wondered where they were—how long before this moment had to end. He knew it couldn’t last forever; he ought to change so he could go home and relieve the hunger tightening his stomach, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to get up. Even with Kageyama’s weight crushing him, it was nice to lie here together, feeling the tension drain out of him—realizing all the tension that he’d been feeling.

The prospect of Saturday’s official matches loomed over him, a different sort of wall from Dateko’s but no less intimidating.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you nervous about Saturday?”

If their team lost a match, they were out.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll win, though.”

Shouyou blew out a breath, trying to let Kageyama’s weight steady him. It helped, maybe. “Yeah,” he said, hoping beyond hope that it was true.


	11. Everyone will suspect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I haven't had a chance to reply to everyone, but your support makes me so happy every time. Butterflies. And smiles. And occasionally throwing myself facedown on the bed. This fandom, I swear... I feel so lucky to be a part of it.
> 
> Right! Importantly, though, after two perfectly T-rated chapters we're back in E-ville. If you'd rather not read smutty stuff, stop reading after: "He knew he was blushing from more than just the heat." and skip to "Shouldn’t we head back"

There was something about team lodgings that made Shouyou’s whole body light up, until he was on fire with the promise of possibility. Every room became a temple of _team bonding_ , every stairwell a potential play area. Seeing the large room they’d sleep in filled him with curiosity and excitement: who would he sleep next to? Would there be ghost stories? Would he overhear some interesting, late-night discussion between the upperclassmen? It was everything he hadn’t had in middle school, and Shouyou loved every minute of it.

Kageyama was less impressed.

“You’re going to miss dinner,” he said, ambling behind slowly. Shouyou was on his second circuit of the complex, trying to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“No I’m not!”

“What? You’re not going to run around like an idiot for the next half hour?”

Shouyou shoved him, wishing he could transfer some of the butterflies in his belly to Kageyama. Didn’t he see how amazing this was? They were a team, staying overnight before an important game. Was there anything more fun in the world?

Eventually he let Kageyama talk him into following him to the main room, where the team was already laying out futons. He was surprised when Tanaka waved.

“Lie here!” Tanaka shouted, pointing next to himself. “We saved you a spot.”

Shouyou and Kageyama exchanged a glance, but did as asked, grabbing futons from the closet and laying them down next to Tanaka, who was next to Nishinoya. He had the strange feeling they were walking into a trap, somehow, but Shouyou failed to see what kind of trap it was.

“We’re going to find out what Ukai’s surprise is,” Tanaka said, when they were both settled in. “Somehow.”

“You have a plan?” Kageyama asked.

“No, not yet—but he and Takeda-sensei are in the private rooms downstairs. We might overhear something.”

“And what do you want us to do?”

“Cover for us! If we get caught listening, it’s because Hinata has a stomach ache, okay? So if you see us in trouble—”

“Pretend I’ve got a stomach ache,” Shouyou said. He grinned. “Got it.”

Kageyama frowned at him. “What if he takes you out of the game tomorrow?”

“As if I haven’t had a stomach ache before a match before! I always—uh.”

“You just remembered you usually feel bad the night before a match, didn’t you?” Kageyama said.

Shouyou felt pressure sink onto his shoulders. “Yes…”

A smack to the back of his head dislodged some of the pressure. “Stop it! Just be an excited dumbass like you were a moment ago. Isn’t this your favorite thing, or something?”

“Right!” Shouyou thought of all the fun things he’d been thinking about a moment ago: ghost stories, overheard conversations, mischief. The pressure dissolved to a manageable background hum, and he smiled at Kageyama. “Okay, all better.”

Tanaka gave him a serious look. “ _Except_ if we get in trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll have a stomach ache then.”

“Great!”

Tanaka and Nishinoya ran off, somehow pulling a protesting Asahi with them, and in the short time before dinner Shouyou and Kageyama fell into conversation with the leftover second years, discussing the schools they would be playing against. By the time Yachi came to tell them the food was ready Shouyou’s stomach was growling, but he was happy.

This was what being on a team was like.

 

* * *

 

 

“I still think you should tell it,” Shouyou was saying, walking side-by-side with Kageyama. It was their turn to use the bath, and he had a towel slung around his shoulders as he tried to convince Kageyama to tell his ghost story later. “It was so scary. I want to know how scared other people get.”

“I told you, even if it _is_ scary, we need people to have a peaceful evening. This isn’t a sleepover.”

 _But it_ is _a sleepover_ , Shouyou thought, disappointed. Tanaka and Nishinoya had had no luck so far figuring out Ukai’s surprise, and no one had wanted to play games after dinner as they all prepared for bed, taking turns using the bath. Asahi was even doing _homework_ , and Shouyou knew he wasn’t allowed to interrupt because the third years were meant to be balancing school and volleyball.

It was awful.

“Ah, here it is,” Kageyama said, opening the door for Shouyou. They both stepped inside. “Stop sulking, will you?”

“I’m not sulking,” Shouyou said, hanging up his towel and pulling at his shirt, “I’m—”

He froze, and a moment later so did Kageyama. Suddenly, Shouyou was very aware of the room they were in: a private room with a large bath tub and showers, and—he glanced behind Kageyama, and his breath quickened—a lock on the door.

Kageyama stepped back.

“No,” he said.

Shouyou grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the door, hurrying to turn the lock behind him. He turned, guarding the door jealously. The room where their team was preparing for bed was several doors down, the restrooms between here and there; they wouldn't be interrupted _or_ overheard, in here. “This is the best opportunity we’re ever going to get.”

“Don’t exaggerate!” Kageyama said. “It’s…”

But even he seemed at a loss for words. He kept blinking, and there was a pink flush on his face. He worried at the towel in his hands.

“I’m ready to be alone with you,” Shouyou said, taking a cautious step towards Kageyama. He grabbed his hands, pressing kisses along his fingers. “ _So_ ready.”

“But… like this…”

“What? We’ve seen each other naked before, remember?”

Kageyama looked to the side, as if he could see through the tile wall to the large room where their teammates were. “Everyone will know.”

“Everyone will _suspect_ ,” Shouyou corrected. “And they’ll do that anyway. Their fault for always giving us the last bathing spot, right?”

Kageyama was silent, and Shouyou stepped closer. “Don’t you want to?” he asked, taking the towel from Kageyama. Next he took his hand and slid it under his shirt, over his hip. Kageyama’s fingers clenched reflexively, making Shouyou move just a little closer, his throat aching with sudden longing.

“Well?” he asked.

“I want to.”

A shiver passed through Shouyou. His mind began to buzz with ideas—half-remembered internet searches, videos—there was so much he’d looked up, his heart thundering as he watched in awe, and now if he played his cards right he might get the chance to try out some of them.

There was one thing in particular he wanted to try, though he wasn’t sure why it turned him on so much.

With legs made of jelly he went to the other wall to hang up Kageyama’s towel, his hands trembling. There were shelves for them to put their clothes, and Shouyou chanced a glance over his shoulder. He wanted to see Kageyama naked, for sure, but now that the situation called for mutual nakedness he wasn’t quite as excited as he would have been otherwise. His body wasn’t as nice as Kageyama’s, comparatively—that was objectively true. Right? So what if—

“Hey,” Kageyama said. “What are you doing?”

Shouyou jumped. “Nothing! Just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“Well, just—”

What? _I’m worried you won’t like the way I look naked?_ It wasn’t like Kageyama hadn’t seen him before, like they’d established, and he’d still confessed. Why would he lose interest now?

Shouyou cursed his sudden shyness, wondering what had happened. Maybe all that talk about girls kissing Kageyama had actually gotten to him. He felt so plain: small, boyish, not sexy in the least. Then again, if he _had_ been a girl, Kageyama wouldn’t have been attracted to him, right? So maybe it was good?

“Hey,” he said, finally getting up the courage to speak. “What do you like about me?”

Kageyama’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Specifically?”

Shouyou turned to face him, leaning back against the plastic shelves. “Um… physically.”

“That’s…” Kageyama folded his arms, eyes narrowed in thought. When he looked up, his expression was so open Shouyou couldn’t doubt his honesty. “Everything, I guess?”

“What? _Everything_?”

He shrugged. “It’s you, so I like everything. Why? What do you like about me?”

That was easy. Shouyou thought of Kageyama’s long fingers, his wrists, his dark eyes. He thought of the way Kageyama’s body moved—the slope of his shoulders, his jaw, his neck—the way he looked from behind in volleyball shorts—

Oh. Maybe he did like everything.

“I guess I understand,” Shouyou said, nodding slowly. “But for the record, I always think about your hands first.”

“Y-you—that’s just because they’re what I use most for tossing, _dumbass_!”

“Nuh-uh. I like imagining them on me.”

And suddenly, Shouyou felt better. Kageyama was blushing, and looking at him in a way that suggested he’d been unfair to him, somehow. Shouyou could still feel the nerves from earlier, just a bit, but it _wasn’t_ like Kageyama hadn’t seen him before. And he could still turn Kageyama into a blushing mess, for whatever reason, so didn’t that mean he’d be fine?

He pulled off his shirt, and placed it folded on one of the shelves.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ll get ready and get in first, okay? And you—don’t look.”

A glance at Kageyama registered clear relief, and a nod. “As long as _you_ don’t.”

Kageyama went to stand in a corner and pulled out his phone, turning his back to the room. Shouyou undressed quickly, turning on one of the showers.

“What games do you play?” he asked as he wet his hair.

Kageyama gave a few names, haltingly, some of which Shouyou recognized—and as he talked his voice got less tenuous. Shouyou cleaned himself off quickly, his hands rough in his hair and on his body. He wanted to be in the tub together soon, so no one would get suspicious if they took long in there. By the time Shouyou turned off the shower and slid into the warm water, Kageyama was talking normally again.

That stopped when he heard Shouyou’s movements.

“Your turn,” Shouyou said helpfully. He sank low on the seat, savoring the feel of warm water.

“Thanks…”

“Ahhh, this is really nice. I wonder how many people fit in here.” He’d guess four, but when it was the first years’ turn Tsukishima and Yamaguchi went first. It was one of the self-heating tubs they had at hotels, way more luxurious than Shouyou’s at home. Blue, white and yellow tiles lay distorted beneath the surface of the water as Shouyou made little waves with his hands, sitting on the seat with his back to the showers.

“How many people do you _want_ to fit in there?”

“Just two,” he said, grinning. He thought about what he’d do when Kageyama got in here. Would Kageyama let him do what he wanted, or would he be too embarrassed? He had to be frustrated, too—but still…

The sound of the shower cut off behind him, and Shouyou stopped breathing. His legs drew up protectively, his cheeks warming. Kageyama climbed over the wide, tiled brim to sit next to him, and it was silent for a long moment as Shouyou steeled himself to look at Kageyama—to establish contact.

“Hey,” he said, turning just a bit. Kageyama had mirrored his posture: knees drawn up, arms around them. He leaned his head on his knees to look at Shouyou, a flush across his cheeks from the heat or embarrassment, Shouyou wasn’t sure. “This is kind of strange, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“Can I touch you?”

Kageyama ducked his head, just a little, and Shouyou reached. His hand slid along the seat until it encountered skin, and then it traveled up Kageyama’s side to his shoulder. Kageyama unfolded, catching Shouyou’s hand against his shoulder. Shouyou couldn’t help a small gasp, though of course he wasn’t surprised—it was just… something. Just something.

“It’s good to see you nervous about something,” Kageyama mumbled. “I think I’m the only one, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, you’re really… tall.” _Good-looking_.

“Tall? How does that…?”

“It just does,” Shouyou said. He was turned towards Kageyama now, one leg drawn up onto the seat and the other in the deeper water. His eyes were drawn to the hollow of Kageyama’s throat, then to his collarbone and the slope of his shoulder. Water droplets clung to his tan skin, and Shouyou swallowed. He was so painfully into Kageyama, it surprised him sometimes. He didn’t understand how someone he’d hardly even considered physically for the longest time had suddenly become an obsession.

Shouyou let his free hand trail over Kageyama’s chest, palm over his heart, where he could feel the thud-thud, thud-thud of his pulse. In return, Kageyama’s fingers slid up Shouyou’s arm, up to his neck, and Shouyou watched his Adam’s apple bob. Did he want to pull Shouyou close? He met Kageyama’s gaze, and something heavy settled between them: longing, maybe, or awareness. The water was too warm around them.

“I’m going to get closer, okay?” Shouyou said, gaze lowering. He knew he was blushing from more than just the heat.

Kageyama let out a stuttering breath. “Yes.”

Shouyou nodded, and placed his shin along Kageyama’s thigh tentatively, balancing his hand on his shoulder. He swung around, settling over Kageyama’s lap, and his breathing sped up. Cautiously, Kageyama drew him in, hands on his hips, and Shouyou felt a _lot_ of skin.

“Nnh,” he breathed unintelligibly. He placed a hand over Kageyama’s chest, wondering if his heart was thundering like his was.

It was.

“Kageyama,” he whispered.

“I thought you were going to call me something else,” Kageyama said, sounding equally breathless.

Shouyou lifted his hand up to Kageyama’s wet hair, drawing his bangs aside. It still felt so strange to have those dark blue eyes on him like this, like he was the only other person in the world. Kageyama’s face was so open—vulnerable, or something, and about twice as handsome for it. It made Shouyou feel a dangerous cocktail of emotions, and he swallowed again—with difficulty.

“Tobio,” he said, because he hadn’t missed the hint of pleading in Kageyama’s voice. He kept brushing that dark hair aside, running his hand down the side of Kageyama’s face, not sure what to do with all the feelings rushing through him. On the one hand, he wanted to scoot forward until they were pressed up against each other like they had been in the bedroom, no clothes this time—and on the other, he wanted to sit here and stare.

“Tobio,” he said again, and watched a flush of pleasure spread over Kageyama’s face, communicating what lowered eyelids and uneven breath could only hint at. It did something to Kageyama, when Shouyou called him that, something more than the simple rush when Kageyama called his name. Shouyou wondered how many people called him Tobio.

The name tasted sweet in his mouth: round, easy. Not such a secret anymore.

Shouyou was still lost in indecision when Kageyama leaned forward, letting his forehead drop against Shouyou’s shoulder. His hands slid up Shouyou’s body, drawing out pleasurable shudders, making his breath come short. He didn’t feel delicate, exactly—he didn’t want to feel delicate—but he felt precious, as if his ordinary self was good enough— _more_ than good enough.

“There’s something—” Shouyou started breathlessly, but he felt Kageyama’s lips against his neck, and he found himself leaning his head back, caught up in the sensation. _There’s something I want to try_ , he thought, trying to get the words in order. They fled without a trace when he felt Kageyama’s thumb brush his nipple in a gentle caress, sending another arc of pleasure through him.

“Ah!”

“Shh,” Kageyama whispered against his neck, both thumbs working in tandem now that he’d found a weakness.

“D-don’t _shh_ me, when you’re doing _that_ —it’s not my fault…”

Kageyama drew up, just a little, looking dazed. The extractor fan was humming in the background, but other than that the room was quiet—just the noise of water against the side of the tub, and their uneven breathing. He seemed to think for a moment, and then he reached for the tap at the corner of the tub.

The sound of running water filled the room.

“The water level was low,” Kageyama said, glancing up. Shouyou felt a blush cover his cheeks, but he grinned nonetheless. There was a hint of a smile in response—self-conscious, as if Kageyama was trying to contain it—and affection was thick in Kageyama’s voice when he added: “You’re so loud.”

“Hmm. And you want me to stop?”

“Idiot,” Kageyama whispered against his jaw. “I really will start aiming serves at the back of your head if you learn to be quiet. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Y-you—what?”

“You think I haven’t noticed you covering the back of your head whenever I serve?”

“Ah—well—um.”

Kageyama grinned, and Shouyou leaned in to kiss that scary, satisfied grin away. He placed his hands on Kageyama’s chest, mimicking the caresses that had driven Shouyou wild earlier. Now that he had access, he could duck down to press kisses to Kageyama’s collar bones—his pecs—even flick his tongue over his nipples in silent revenge.

“You—sss—“

Was he _hissing_? Shouyou smiled, sliding his hands down Kageyama’s abs. He heard Kageyama’s breath halt, and with a quick glance up, for permission, he let his hands move lower.

Shouyou stopped the choked noise Kageyama made with his mouth, swallowing it, wrapping his hand firmly around Kageyama’s erection. There was another choked sound, and short, clipped fingernails digging into his hips, but Shouyou wasn’t paying attention. He _did_ pay attention when Kageyama pulled him forward, banging his knees against the side of the tub.

“Hey,” Shouyou said, not quite defensively enough. They were pressed up against each other again, Kageyama’s erection against his, and the sensation made it hard to think of any _other_ body parts, including his scraped knees.

“Sorry,” Kageyama said. “I…”

He seemed at a loss for words, so Shouyou interrupted. “Hey, there’s something I want to try.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Um—using my mouth.”

“But that’s only good for me; I don’t want—” He cut off when Shouyou laughed.

“You think I haven’t fantasized about doing that to you?” Shouyou asked. “It’s—I fantasize about it a lot. And it _is_ good for me. You can get me after.”

He peppered kisses over Kageyama’s face, his neck—then smiled up at him. “Please?”

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Shouyou’s stomach flipped; part of him hadn’t expected Kageyama to agree, and nerves crept into his body as he imagined all the things that could go wrong. He could forget to keep his teeth away, or trigger his gag reflex too much, or—but he’d done research, had even gone so far as to stick fingers in his mouth and test what it felt like, trying to get comfortable. He was prepared.

“Okay, you have to sit up on the rim or I’ll drown,” Shouyou said. He saw Kageyama’s fierce blush, and added, “I like all of you.”

He moved back, off Kageyama’s lap, and watched as Kageyama dragged himself out of the water. A flush spread across Shouyou’s cheeks at the sight of Kageyama like this: so naked and visible, water droplets clinging to him—clinging to the coarse, black hairs above his erection, which was definitely the focal point from this height.

Shouyou crept back onto the seat, swallowing a little. He felt like he could come if he just touched himself once, seeing Kageyama like this, so he wouldn’t. Instead he kneeled again, and sat up as high as he could so he could grab Kageyama’s face and pull it down to meet his. He didn’t know which of them needed the kiss more; Kageyama’s finger’s dug into him.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kageyama said roughly. “We could just—bathe—“

“What part of _I want to do this_ don’t you understand?” Shouyou asked. After seeing Kageyama on the step—the way his body looked like that—he didn’t think he could stand just returning to the bedroom like normal. He’d end up humping someone in his sleep, he was sure.

Not that that had ever happened, but it was still a concern.

He let go of Kageyama’s face, letting his hands fall to Kageyama’s hips instead as he pressed kisses to his chest. He sucked once on Kageyama’s right nipple—partially to be an ass, partially because it made Kageyama twitch—then continued downward, savoring Kageyama’s shivers.

When he felt the head of Kageyama’s erection bump against his throat, he drew back a bit, moving his right hand onto Kageyama’s thigh as he steeled himself to touch Kageyama’s cock when it was laid bare like this. He glanced up at his towering boyfriend, and it was a clear mistake: Kageyama had his hand over his mouth, his expression scary.

“Don’t look at it like that,” he said, voice muffled. Shouyou’s hand crept forward.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Shouyou said, an edge of agitation in his voice. “You’re bigger than me. _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to feel insulted.”

Not that he exactly _minded_ the differences between them, as they were. He bent over Kageyama’s erection, letting his fingers circle down to the underside as he licked the head experimentally, ending the gesture in a kiss. It didn’t taste like anything, really—maybe because it was clean? He tried again, wrapping his lips around the head this time, and felt Kageyama twitch in response. A glance to his right told him Kageyama was digging his nails into his thigh, which didn’t seem like the correct response.

“You okay?” he asked, drawing back a little.

“Okay isn’t the word I’d use,” Kageyama said, through gritted teeth. “You really, really don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” Shouyou said, wondering if it would convince him. “It turns me on too, you know? Maybe it would help if you stopped trying to dig holes in your leg.”

“It’s really hard not to move,” Kageyama said, an unstated _dumbass_ in his tone. “I don’t want to do what my body wants to do.”

“Which is?”

Kageyama glared. “Guess.”

Shouyou grinned, taking Kageyama’s hand and placing it on his head. “Here, play with my hair if it’s so hard to do nothing.”

“That—that doesn’t help—”

But Shouyou was already leaning forward again, and the break had emboldened him. Kageyama was coming apart at the seams already and he’d barely done any of the things he read about online; this would be easy. He licked a stripe up the underside of Kageyama’s cock before tonguing the slit slowly, letting his spit coat everything. The way Kageyama’s fingers tightened in his hair went straight to his own erection, and he fought not to touch himself the way he wanted to; he wasn’t quite far gone enough to want to come in the communal bathwater.

With bated breath he let his lips wrap around the head of Kageyama’s erection again, and coated with his spit Kageyama’s length felt slicker; he let his mouth slide forward, pulling off to add more spit when he felt friction. He thought he heard a tiny sound of protest at the loss of contact, but he couldn’t be certain—and he had his mouth back in place a moment later, moving forward and back, keeping his tongue pressed close. Kageyama really _did_ moan, then, or his version of a moan: this small, barely audible “hh”-sound, that made Shouyou want to ram forward and draw it out of him again.

He was fairly sure that would be a bad idea, though; research suggested he had a totally functional gag reflex.

With his mouth still creating a steady pace, Shouyou wrapped his hand around what he couldn’t reach with his lips, conscious of the tight grip on his hair. In the videos he’d watched, the guys sometimes pulled their partners’ heads forward as if they were ramming into any other hole—but Kageyama wasn’t doing that. He was trembling with the effort of _not_ doing it, or something similar, and making those small sounds that drove Shouyou up the wall, but he was not doing that.

 _Moan_ , Shouyou thought at him, following his own advice; he’d read that humming was nice. Kageyama twitched in response, and Shouyou could swear his hips inched forward, just a little, closer to the edge. Shouyou quickened his pace, letting his hand flatten out until he was touching more than just the shaft, and finally he got a sound just slightly louder than a moan, and Kageyama’s hips strained forward before pulling back.

“I’m almost—you should—” The words cut off when Shouyou took as much of him in as he could, keeping his tongue firm along the bottom. Kageyama gasped. “Should—stop—”

“Not stopping,” Shouyou said, or rather—his vocal chords produced the sounds necessary to say it. It only made Kageyama strain for more, and Shouyou felt triumph and arousal mix in his abdomen, his free hand sliding up Kageyama’s chest, seeking out his heartbeat—proof of what he was doing to him, how he reduced Karasuno’s genius setter to choked gasps and clenched muscles

“Sh—sh—”

Shouyou’s mouth worked, and he felt something change, the tension peaking—and then he felt hot liquid in his mouth, felt Kageyama shudder into him. He continued the motion for just a little longer, letting the shuddering stop, and then he drew back, swallowing and wiping his mouth. He couldn’t help grinning.

Kageyama was breathing hard, looking at him like he was a stranger. “You—didn’t stop…”

“Duh, the whole point is not to stop. It was good, right? I was good?”

“You were,” Kageyama said, his voice almost too low to hear. “Come up here.”

Shouyou stood up shyly, still somewhat unwilling to be seen naked—but Kageyama’s totally vulnerable state made it easier. The way he looked at Shouyou’s body helped, too: like he’d been crazy to think he was plain, or unsexy. Wordlessly, Kageyama drew him forward, until he was straddling his lap, above the water this time, his legs hanging over the other side of the bath’s rim.

Kageyama’s hands cradled Shouyou’s face for a long moment, and then he moved forward. The way Kageyama kissed him then made Shouyou’s whole body feel light. It was so soft—so ridiculously gentle, and Shouyou thought again about those people who rammed into their partners’ faces. He wondered if they ever got kisses like this, after.

He wondered if anyone in the world got kisses like this, actually; if other people knew they existed, wouldn’t they spend all their time looking for them, instead of having jobs? It all seemed pretty unlikely.

Kageyama’s hands wandered down, grazing his nipples, his sides, traveling between them with intent. Shouyou felt himself unable to breathe or kiss back—and then Kageyama was touching him, skin to skin, and Shouyou’s head fell back. His breath shuddered out of him; he’d wanted to be touched for such a long time, both today and in the weeks previous. He knew he was being loud again as he responded to the caresses, but he couldn’t quite tell what sounds he was making; his ears didn’t seem to be working right. His whole body was lit up with sensation, burning hot, and it only got worse when Kageyama leaned in to press kisses to his neck, nipping occasionally.

“I won’t last,” Shouyou said in a groan, wondering if he should be embarrassed.

“Then don’t,” Kageyama whispered back, against his jawline.

“Say my name again.”

“Say mine.”

Had Kageyama always been this obstinate? Probably, though Shouyou was having trouble recalling at the moment. He moaned when Kageyama’s hand tightened. The pace changed somehow, or his grip, and Shouyou didn’t think: he was saying it again, _Tobio_ , each iteration more breathless than the last. Kageyama—Tobio—was saying his name back, warmth in every syllable, until Shouyou’s breath cut off and he was thrusting up, hanging around Kageyama’s shoulders, panting as he rode his orgasm out.

There was a long silence after, filled with ambient noise alone: the extractor, the running tap—their uneven breathing.

“That was—” Shouyou’s words cut off. He’d made the mistake of looking at Kageyama, and a pang of terror ran through him at the sight. He wasn’t smiling like any normal partner might do in this situation; instead, he was staring. Intently. “Uhh.”

Suddenly, a glorious blush appeared on Kageyama’s cheeks, and his face returned to normal. Shouyou laughed hesitantly.

“That was?” Kageyama asked.

“Amazing.”

“Yeah,” he said, ducking his head. “Um. Get off—my legs are numb—I need to throw this…”

Shouyou noticed then that Kageyama was cradling something in his hand, and he scrambled back into the water, submersing himself up to the nose as guilt and embarrassment ran through him. “I’m sorry—I should’ve caught that.” He watched Kageyama stand up on shaky legs and throw the white glob down a drain before rinsing his hand, using soap from the dispenser.

“You caught mine,” Kageyama mumbled, looking hugely embarrassed. He turned off the tap, and Shouyou expected him to turn and dry off, then, but he sank back into the pool and reached for him. Shouyou waded forward, letting Kageyama catch him in his arms, pulling him close with one arm under his back and the other under his thighs. He rested his head in the crook of Kageyama’s neck, smiling a little.

“Shouldn’t we head back?” he said, with very little intent.

“Just a little longer,” Kageyama said, and Shouyou’s smile widened.

“Okay.”


	12. I could learn to love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always always always thank you--for the wonderful reviews, for the sweet messages on tumblr, for the good conversations, for caring. You're the best. This is just a short chapter, but I wanted to get it out ASAP after episode 24. 
> 
> Amazing nsfw (VERY NSFW TURN YOUR SCREEN IF YOU LOOK) art from last chapter here: http://rukiscroax.tumblr.com/post/97282924738/everyone-will-suspect-kagehina-kageyama-tobio *BLUSH*
> 
> If you're uncomfortable with sex stuff, skip two paragraphs after reading "excruciating detail". Otherwise rated T.

“Your knees…”

“Are fine,” Hinata said, tugging his capris down self-consciously. They only _just_ covered the redness, and tomorrow there would probably be bruising. What had he done?

“Stop looking like that,” Hinata said, poking him in the stomach. He grinned. “It was totally worth it.”

Tobio frowned, though he could feel a blush creep into his cheeks.

“What? You used to push me around all the time, before. Now I just get more out of it.”

“I—but—it’s different now.”

“Yeah, _better_. Anyway, we’ve been gone way too long. If we stay any longer people will definitely comment.”

 _As if they won’t already_ , Tobio thought, more than a little intimidated at the prospect. They were both dressed and respectable, but Tobio felt like there was something that had crept beneath his skin—some weird mix of guilt and happiness and vulnerability—and he didn’t know how to keep it hidden. His skin felt translucent, somehow.

Meanwhile, Hinata looked like he was glowing.

“Come on! You can tell your ghost story.” He dragged Tobio out of the bathroom by the wrist, though he dropped it once they were in the hallway. He nudged Tobio’s shoulder. “It would be so fun.”

“I told you, ghost stories are a bad idea at bedtime.”

“That’s the _only_ time to tell them. It’s only scary when it’s dark—”

His voice cut off when Daichi and Sugawara came out of the room on the other end of the hall, talking in quiet voices. Tobio’s jaw clenched up when he saw the upperclassmen notice them. Sugawara smiled, but Daichi’s face went from an expression of calm leadership to sudden realization. He blinked a few times, looking stunned.

“Are you going somewhere?” Hinata asked, quickening his pace to join them. “Are you going to talk to Coach Ukai?”

“Hm?” Sugawara said. “Have you been talking to Noya-san and Tanaka-san, maybe?”

“We’re all curious! It’s not fair!”

“Good things to those who wait,” Sugawara said, in a sing-song voice. “Go get to your beds.”

“Yes, vice-captain,” Hinata intoned sadly, and both duos continued on in opposite directions. Tobio thought that would be the end of it—but Hinata stopped suddenly a moment later, and grabbed his arm.

“Wha—?”

“Shh!” He glanced back, and Tobio glanced back with him. Their captains had disappeared into the men’s toilets halfway down the hall behind them. He didn’t have time to think about what that meant; Hinata was already dragging him over to the open doorway, motioning for him to be quiet.

What on earth was he doing? Trying to find out about the Ukai thing?

He heard Daichi’s low voice a moment later.

“You knew!” he was saying. “Suga, we’re _responsible_ for them.”

Sugawara’s soft laughter followed. “And what were you going to do? Demand they take separate baths?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what we should have done!”

“Hmm, you’re taking that time Kageyama-kun called you dad very seriously.”

A sigh, and then: “We should talk to them.”

Tobio took an involuntary step back. Hinata’s hand was still tight around his bicep, though, and he couldn’t move far.

“Not before the match,” Sugawara said. “It would only distract them.”

There was a long silence, then Daichi grumbled. “You never go this easy on me.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve it,” Sugawara said, a smile in his voice, and Tobio felt Hinata backing him away from the door. He went willingly; being caught out here listening would be even more mortifying than overhearing that conversation already was. They walked on tiptoes back to the main room.

“You called Daichi-san dad?” Hinata asked in a whisper, once they were further away.

“That hardly seems like the important take-away from that conversation!”

Round eyes examined him, clearly amused.

“I was sleepy,” Tobio said defensively, and Hinata’s smile widened. He didn’t say anything more though, and they arrived at the main room.

Tobio slid the door open, his stomach tight with nerves. Inside, it looked like everyone had finally pulled together to play a game—or watch people play. Everyone was huddled around a tower of wooden blocks, and Nishinoya—closest to the tower—looked up when they came in.

“Don’t shake the room!” he said, sounding almost frantic. “Walk as _quietly_ as you can.”

Ennoshita laughed under his breath. “Don’t blame them just because you’re about to lose.”

“I’m not _losing_.”

“I said _about to lose_ —”

There was a chorus of laughs, and Tobio began tiptoeing to his futon while Hinata headed over to watch the game. No one had looked surprised at their entrance together; there hadn’t been suspicious glances or looks of sudden realization or anything. He hid a smile, pretending to look for something in his bag—and saw Tsukishima look up from his book. The lanky first-year was the only other one on this side of the room, sprawled across his futon on his stomach.

“Don’t ever take a bath before me,” he said, his voice drowned out by the noise from the group. His eyes were full of the usual disdain. “You look disgusting.”

Tobio’s blushed, horrified at being seen through by _Tsukishima_ of all people. “ _Look_ disgusting?” he asked. He would have expected Tsukishima to say he _was_ disgusting.

“Yeah, all content. It looks wrong on you when you’re not holding a volleyball.”

“I’ll aim one at your face if it bothers you so much,” he said, matching Tsukishima glare for glare. “Knock your special glasses off.”

Tsukishima’s neutral expression returned, and then—suddenly—there was something approximating a smile on his face. “Better,” he said, and went back to reading his book. “But don’t forget the bath thing. You go last.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It probably wouldn’t come up, anyway; Tobio didn’t expect to get another chance after hearing Daichi’s thoughts on the matter—but Tsukishima’s tacit, thorny acceptance was kind of nice, anyway.

He spent the rest of the evening trying not to look too _content_ , whatever that meant.

He wasn’t sure it worked.

 

* * *

 

 

Tobio mashed his face into his pillow, glaring into it. He could barely breathe, but cutting off oxygen to his brain seemed like it might be a good way to stave off the unwelcome thoughts he was having; nothing else seemed to be working.

He remembered everything in excruciating detail.

He remembered what Hinata’s mouth felt like, and the way he’d grinned after, triumph in every inch of his smile. He remembered Hinata standing in front of him naked and erect—and smooth skin, jerky breaths, Hinata clinging to his shoulders, just about sobbing his name. It was all too much, even now, and he wondered if this was why his mother had told him not to have sex: because it turned him into an aroused mess even after the fact. It took up his brain when he didn’t want it to.

He was in a dark room filled with his teammates, trying to sleep, and he was hard.

He wanted to groan with frustration—but it would give him away, so he tried not to move at all, worried that any friction would have him rutting into his futon. What was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hinata,” came a voice, drawing Tobio from his tortured non-rest.

He turned his head. He thought the whisper had come from Tanaka, lying on the other side of Hinata, even though he’d thought most of the others were asleep already. Tanaka was still awake? Who else was?

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Hinata whispered back, his words indistinct with sleep.

“The kissing and stuff.”

Tobio heard Tsukishima groan and reposition himself. Their futons were laid end to end, so Tobio glanced up, more curious than concerned: the other boy seemed to be trying to close his ears with his pillow.

Tobio kind of wanted to do that, too, except that wouldn’t stop this conversation from happening.

“It’s amazing,” Hinata said, and the complete conviction with which he said it sent butterflies straight to Tobio’s stomach.

Tanaka sighed. “Man, I want that.”

“You haven’t?” Hinata asked, obvious surprise in his voice. Tobio tried not to snort. How had Hinata not noticed Tanaka was hopeless with girls? Even Tobio had noticed, and he was paying little to no attention.

“Hmmm, it’s surprising, huh?” There was a note of gloating back in Tanaka’s voice—probably pleased Hinata thought he was experienced. “But I haven’t.”

“Because they don’t know you,” came a new voice. “If I was a girl, I’d be all over you, for sure!”

“You would?”

“Totally. Wait, you mean you wouldn’t fall for me if you were a girl...?”

“No! I would! If I was a girl, yeah!”

There was a sound of a fist hitting a shoulder, presumably with affection. “Knew it, man. We’d be the best.” Nishinoya sounded pleased.

There was another groan from Tsukishima. “You two are never getting girlfriends, just so you know.” He sounded like death.

There were twin hisses of, “Hey!” from the second years in question, and shushing from anonymous third parties. They quieted.

“What if we never do, though?” Nishinoya asked in a whisper only just within Tobio’s hearing range.

“I don’t know. I could learn to love you, maybe.”

“Man, like—physically?”

“Maybe if you dressed up.”

“Why do _I_ have to dress up?”

“We could take turns, of course,” Tanaka said, sounding wise.

“Oh, that’s better.”

There was a stuttering sound from somewhere on the other side of the room: quick breaths, maybe, and as Tanaka and Nishinoya began to talk about how they’d convincingly pretend to be girls for each other, it got louder—until it broke out into a full-out laugh, and Tobio recognized the voice as Sugawara’s. He was gasping for breath, his body shaking, seeming unable to stop.

There was a growl from the same direction as Sugawara’s laugh, then Daichi’s voice: “If you two don’t shut up, I’m forcing you to sleep outside. _Without_ the futons. Got it?”

“Yes, captain!” they said together, but Sugawara was still gasping.

“Suga…” This time, Daichi’s voice was gentler.

“I’ll be fine,” Sugawara said, between shaky breaths. “Just… give me a minute.”

“We have a game tomorrow,” Daichi said to the rest of the room. “Calm down. Go to sleep. Imagine you’re in class, if you have to.”

There were mumbled yes-es, and the room went silent once more as Sugawara composed himself, though Tobio thought he heard him mutter _I could learn to love you_ , and another fit of giggles, and Daichi’s soft shushing— _it goes for you, too_. There was a teasing _yes, captain_ , then nothing more. The silence felt warm.

 _This is what Hinata likes_ , Tobio thought, feeling a strange sense of well-being. He kind of got it, even though he was firmly on Daichi’s side, wanting his teammates to get enough sleep before the match. Then again, the conversation had been a good distraction; his body was no longer at the tipping point, his mind quiet again. As soon as he thought that, though, scenes flashed before his eyes.

 _Don’t_ , he told himself sternly. He turned onto his side, trying to think of something else—anything else—but imagining the upcoming match didn’t help much, either; it made his stomach writhe with nerves and excitement, not conducive to sleep.

So he thought of the warm, tight feeling he’d been getting in his chest lately with Hinata. Not the arousal; the quiet feelings that came after, that sometimes confused him more. The way his throat seemed to close up, filled with _I love you_ and _Stay_ and _Do you feel it, too?_ Saying any one of those three would be mortifying, though. What on earth could Hinata say in response?

 _I love you too_ , he imagined Hinata saying. It didn’t seem right, the way he was imagining it: all serious, the way he would say it in Hinata’s position.

It was easier to imagine Hinata saying it while grinning, somehow, but how would Tobio know he meant it then? Wouldn’t that be just the same as _I love getting tosses_ , or _I love ice cream_? Those kinds of statements meant nothing; it didn’t mean you wanted the thing you professed to love forever, or liked it any more than a thousand other things. A part of Tobio wished he’d never started feeling this way, all twisted up and in love. He didn’t want to be this reliant on someone else, even if it was Hinata. _Especially_ if it was Hinata.

He moved closer to Hinata’s futon, feeling an ache. Hinata’s breathing was even—sleep-breaths, maybe—and Tobio slid his hand forward, under the sheets. If he could just touch Hinata, the ache might ease up a little.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his, fingers curling around his palm. His arm stretched as Hinata brought their linked hands up to his face. He trailed his mouth over Tobio’s knuckles, his breath warm, and Tobio felt his stomach go tight.

 _He always does that_ , he thought vaguely, most other thoughts fleeing. When Hinata’s grip loosened just a little, Tobio brushed his fingers against Hinata’s face and felt him smile.

His stomach flipped.

Neither of them moved. Their hands lay on the pillow between them, and slowly Tobio’s breath went back to normal; the ache had eased.

He fell asleep not much later, and by morning he’d forgotten the strange, soft dread. It felt less real during the day, with a match ahead of them and Hinata at his elbow, scarfing down rice and talking with his mouth full. It felt less real while he was yelling at Hinata, and Hinata was yelling back at him.

Everything was as it should be.

 

* * *

 

 

“Karasuno… _fight_!”

“ _Ossu_!”

The parquet floor was firm beneath his feet, familiar. Energy buzzed through him, connected him to his teammates on the court, seeming to settle in his fingers—fingers that would direct his tosses mere minutes from now. He felt the excitement of it fill up his chest. As their warm-up began, the other team beginning theirs on the other end of the gym, he felt his heartbeat kicking up, the familiar scent of the court thick around him.

 _Air salonpas_ , Tobio thought. _Hinata thinks the court smells like air salonpas._

He grinned.

 _I’m here again_.

Hinata nudged him, and when their eyes met he was grinning too. He hadn’t seemed nervous at all, this morning, even at the prospect of new, even stronger opponents. He seemed excited.

 _We’re here_ , Tobio thought, and rushed to join the others. 


	13. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your reviews are the highlight of my day. Someone even said "I don't know if you'll read this" -- yes. I read every one. Multiple times. Especially when I need a pick-me-up. SO THERE. And there you were thinking you could go unnoticed, ha. Nope. Never.
> 
> A note: obviously I am not able to comply with the manga all that well  
> 1) I don't understand the tournament structure and  
> 2) a bunch of characters (especially family) haven't been introduced  
> 3) this is actually set after the current arc of the manga
> 
> So if things happen in the manga that completely contradict what I've written, please take it as it is! Furthermore, I hope you are all dealing with the end of the anime in healthy and happy ways. ;u; what are sundays now.
> 
> ALSO this chapter has some angst I'm sorry I swear I'm not doing it to hurt anyone. (Please trust me! Not evil.)

Tobio’s uniform was soaked with sweat, cold against his warm skin. His chest heaved. They’d done it. They—they’d—

“ _Yes!”_

Yells rang out over the court, and Tobio stared at the spot where Hinata’s last spike had landed. This was real. They’d done it.

“Kageyama!”

He turned, and he had just a moment to brace himself before arms were flying up around his ears, legs settling around his waist, a shoulder coming dangerously close to his face. _Hinata_.

“We did it!” Hinata yelled, while Tobio regained his balance, adrenaline allowing him to squeeze Hinata back without worrying about the others. He grinned into Hinata’s sweaty collar, arms tight around him.

“Hey! Me too!”

Suddenly there was a press of bodies, and Tobio was right in the middle of it. He was fairly certain Tanaka was trying to lift him _and_ Hinata up, while Nishinoya tried to clamber onto Tobio’s back. Others were patting heads and backs and arms, or shoving—even Daichi was participating, holding a laughing Asahi in a headlock—until Ukai called them to order.

“Line up!” he yelled.

They did as asked, and Tobio tried not to let the disappointment in their opponents’ faces dull the fierce joy in his chest. They could stay. Their journey didn’t end here—it would end months from now.

Their team was still a team; they had a purpose.

He’d never felt better.

 

* * *

 

 

They showered and ate after the match, and if anything happened on the bus ride home Tobio didn’t notice; he was out for the count, slumped against Hinata in some ungodly posture that had his neck hurting fiercely when they stepped off the bus back at the high school. What he _did_ notice was the cheering crowd that greeted them when they got off the bus.

Well—not a crowd, exactly, but the neighborhood association was there, holding a huge cake decorated to look like a volleyball, and a few of the players from the girls’ team had come out, too, as well as Shimizu. Tanaka and Nishinoya perked up visibly, storming down the bus steps with renewed energy.

“This was your surprise?” Nishinoya asked, grinning.

“Hardly requires planning…” Tsukishima mumbled from somewhere behind Tobio, though he had the grace to speak low enough not to be overheard.

Ukai patted Nishinoya on the head. “You’re the one who said I had a surprise, not me.”

“But you did! You were planning all the time!”

“Hm, yeah. In case you lost.”

“What?” a chorus of scandalized voices said.

“Well, you can’t have _losing_ cake. So I had to have something different planned.”

“What were the other plans?” Hinata asked, bouncing. He seemed to have recovered from post-match exhaustion, too.

“Hot springs,” Ukai said, with a wink. There was a loud cry from the team— _we can still go to the hot springs! That’s not fair_ —and Takeda put his hands up, trying to calm them down.

“He’s joking! He’s joking! Now, let’s enjoy this inside. I’ve opened up my classroom for the occasion.”

Tobio followed, still a little dazed from sleep. Hot springs? That _had_ been a joke, hadn’t it? It would be expensive to take a whole team—but suddenly he was imagining Hinata in a yukata, tied badly because it was Hinata, the material slipping to bare his shoulder and chest—and he had to swallow, hard.

No, no, the hot springs thing was a joke. Sensei had said so.

In the end, they spent a good hour eating cake and talking about the day’s matches, watching recordings the neighborhood association members had made. Tobio found it hard to focus on the company when matches were being shown; he found his eyes drawn to the screen, to the court. Even now, mere hours since his last match, he felt the old longing.

 _I want to be there_.

“Now remember,” Takeda said, when he stopped the recordings, “You’ll have more exams soon. We’re all very proud of you, but you have to keep your grades up. I’ll be expecting all of you to be monitoring each other, making sure your teammates aren’t falling behind.”

Somehow, his bespectacled eyes seemed to seek out Tsukishima more so than the rest. From Tsukishima’s cool expression, it was in vain.

“Also, we have a present for you.”

A player from the girls’ team—Michimura, or something—ducked behind the teacher’s desk and came up with a large bag of… something. Colored paper?

“Cranes,” Takeda said. “For luck. They carry all our wishes.”

Tobio peered at the cranes in the bag, blinking.

He didn’t think any amount of paper cranes could carry all his wishes.

 

* * *

  

After the preliminaries, some of the pressure eased. There were more smiles during practice, and one day Tobio found Asahi sneaking paper cranes into his and Hinata’s bags in the club room during a water break. Asahi looked up guiltily when he realized he had company.

“For luck,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “For you and Hinata. I… got the idea from the team thing. I didn’t make a thousand, though.”

Tobio couldn’t think of a response, but when he got home he lined the cranes up on his desk—all seven—and they watched him whenever he did his homework there, which was more often now midterms were close. He hated not having practice—but it gave him and Hinata a good reason to spend time at each other’s houses, studying.

Which was also how he met Hinata’s sister.

Tobio wasn’t good with children, as a rule. He wasn’t good with _anything_ significantly shorter than Hinata; cats tended to cross the street when he walked by, and small children had a tendency to get into staring contests with him only to cry their way out of them. Thankfully, Hinata’s sister seemed to be above the random-crying stage of development, but Tobio still felt intimidated at the sight of her.

She was _cute_. Really cute. Like a tiny Hinata with more hair accessories.

She was also eyeing him with great distrust.

Hinata shoved him. They were in the kitchen grabbing drinks before a study session, and the small one had just walked in. No one had said anything yet.

“Stop glaring at her like that, you’ll intimidate her!” Hinata said, before making introductions, not explaining what Tobio was to him at all—he just said, “This is Kageyama Tobio. I’ve told you about him.”

“Tosses?” the girl—Natsu—said, and Tobio wondered if Hinata family members all came out of the womb whining for tosses.

“Yeah! The one who sends me tosses! Hey, I bet he could throw you, easily.”

Tobio stared at Hinata in horror—then in _more_ horror as a smile appeared on Natsu’s face. “No,” he said, looking from one to the other.

“It’d be fun! Kind of like a meet and greet!”

“But she’s so small!”

There was a growl from the small one.

“You toss me all the time! Come on, Kageyama—don’t be boring, I want you to make a good impression!”

“That’s not how you make a good impression! Tossing children is out of the question!”

Except Natsu was starting to look at him like he’d just shattered all her dreams, and Tobio felt a tug of remorse. Looking from one redhead to the other, he sighed. “Fine. But no one tells your parents when they get back.”

“Of course not!” Hinata said, as they all put their shoes back on again. “Anyway, my dad lives abroad, so there’s no way he’d find out.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No! How would I know that?”

Natsu tugged at his sleeve—this was the closest he’d been to any creature her size since he’d _been_ that size—and led them out to a patch of grass across the street, with an uncomfortably large amount of houses nearby.

“Your neighbors will tell,” Tobio said grumpily, and Hinata insisted they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter, anyway, because it seemed that—for reasons that were unclear to him—his in with Natsu was tossing her like a volleyball, and if that was the only way for him to make a good impression on Hinata’s sister then he’d do it regardless of neighbors.

“Okay!” Hinata said. “You toss her, I’ll catch!”

“Are you sure about this?” Tobio asked Natsu. She was so _small_. And cute, though he supposed that didn’t really say anything about how well she would bounce back up if dropped.

She nodded, a familiar smile beginning to form on her extremely Hinata-like face, and Tobio ducked down gingerly.

“I’m going to pick you up.”

She nodded again, and he reached under her armpits. She wasn’t nicely _compact_ like a volleyball, and she was a good deal heavier, but he could feel his arms adjusting already. Getting a good grip would be hard, though, and he swung her around experimentally.

A giggle erupted.

“Um.”

That wasn’t the response he got from children. He peered at her face, and sure enough: she was laughing.

“Come on!” Hinata said, standing very near with his arms out. “We’ll start small.”

Tobio frowned at him. “You won’t spike her?” He’d just found the only child in the world who might possibly like him; letting Hinata break her neck now was out of the question.

“Of course not! She’s my sister, you know!”

“Okay—let me toss her up a few times, first.”

“Well, of course,” Hinata said, as if it went without saying. Tobio nodded, got a nod from Natsu, and tossed gently.

She came down a lot faster than a volleyball, but he caught her easily.

“You’re probably too big for this,” Tobio told her. His arms would hurt tomorrow if he kept this up—though the lack of volleyball practice this week had him longing for that ache. “You might get hurt just from us catching you.”

Natsu nodded. “It’s fun.”

“Okay,” Tobio said. “I think I’ve got it. But we’re starting low.”

And they did _start_ low. But as Tobio started getting the hang of things, Natsu kept flying higher, and the higher she went the more she laughed, and the more she laughed the more Tobio wanted to _make_ her laugh.

The game ended when Hinata nearly fumbled her and unbalanced himself, resulting in a Hinata-sibling pile on the grass—thankfully with Natsu on top and unharmed.

“Dumbass! You said you’d catch her!”

A niggling voice in the back of Tobio’s head told him that that toss _had_ been too high, so it was sort of his fault too, but he didn’t listen to it.

“I did catch her! She’s fine, see?”

Natsu did look fine—in fact, she was grinning widely, trampling Hinata as she got up. “That was fun,” she said, running over to Tobio. _I’m not tossing you again_ , he thought at her sternly.

“What?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

She patted his thigh. “I’m fine.”

“G-good.”

Hinata got up, brushing himself off. “I suppose we _should_ study…”

“Yeah…”

“But it’s a special occasion,” Hinata said. “This is the first time you and Natsu have met.”

Tobio perked up just a little. He knew they ought to study, but how important was it as long as they both got passing grades? He looked at Hinata in question, wondering what he was going to suggest.

“I still have the Gamecube…”

“We can study in an hour,” Tobio said. “Since we have all afternoon.” He’d borrowed his dad’s bike and could cycle back any time.

Both siblings grinned in approval, and they walked back into the house together, talking about what games they wanted to play.

They didn’t get any studying done that afternoon, or the next one.

 

* * *

  

That first day at Hinata’s house marked a change; after, they went there often, even once midterms were over and club activities resumed. It made sense, since Tobio’s mother had instated her no-Hinata-while-I’m-not-here rule in their house and they didn’t want to be limited in when they could spend time together. Tobio met Hinata’s mother, too, that first day, when she insisted he stay for dinner; she was a friendly, homely-looking woman with ordinary brown hair, whose main joy in life seemed to be providing snacks for her energetic children and asking Tobio whether he had girls chasing him.

That last bit was awkward, especially since she asked it every time they saw each other; it had a tendency to put Hinata in a bad mood—which she correctly attributed to jealousy, though not the right kind—and reduce Tobio to his most awkward self. Hinata hadn’t told his family about their relationship— _yet_ , he kept saying, _I haven’t told them yet_ , and Tobio felt no need to change that.

He liked the way things were, even if he never felt like he got to touch Hinata enough. He knew his tosses were getting more erratic in practice, that he kept getting distracted by the way Hinata’s shirt hitched up when he jumped, what Hinata looked like when he spiked, the way he smiled. It was a little like what things had been like _before_ they started dating, with every single thing Hinata did distracting him, but it was a warm burn now—anticipation rather than agony.

Plus there was the fact that Hinata let him know—frequently—that he wasn’t the only one feeling frustrated. He tried to corner Tobio in a bathroom once, and it had made both of them late for practice, faces flushed and bodies aching worse than they had been before because of Tobio’s belated and embarrassed insistence that _we can’t do this here, idiot!_

It wasn’t perfect, but Tobio was the happiest he could remember being, sexual frustration and all, so when Hinata called him one night mid November sounding frantic, Tobio felt an odd reassurance settle in around him.

Of course happiness couldn’t last forever.

“Can you sneak out?” Hinata asked. He was breathless, and Tobio wondered if he was running.

“Yes—what is it?”

“Can you meet me, in that park halfway between our houses? With the red spinny thing?”

“I—yes. Are you going there now?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded strained, like his throat had closed up.

“Be careful! I’m not there yet, there might be weirdos—”

“But you’ll come?”

He was already changing back into day clothes, switching pajama pants for jeans. So much for getting to bed early. “I will. Just wait, okay? Run if anyone approaches you.”

There was a sobbing laugh on the other end of the line, and Tobio’s heart squeezed. “I’m not going to get murdered,” Hinata said.

“Okay. See you soon.”

Tobio pocketed the phone and stepped out of the room, not counting on his parents sitting in the living room. They looked up as a unit, seeming surprised to see him showered and back in day clothes.

“I forgot to pump up Dad’s bike tires,” Tobio said. “They were a little low.”

His parents blinked but didn’t protest, even when he put on his shoes.

“Can’t you do it tomorrow?” his father asked.

“I’ll forget if I don’t do it now.”

They accepted the excuse out of hand, and didn’t call after him when he headed out the door. He didn’t pump up any tires, though; instead he grabbed the bike and jumped onto it, his legs already working hard. He wished he’d asked what was wrong, but the thought of Hinata being murdered in some park had cleared his head of thoughts.

 _Shit_. What could be wrong? He’d sounded upset—not like he was sneaking out for fun. Tobio pushed his body faster, faster, until at last the park rolled into view, and he didn’t even lock his bike up in the rack when he saw Hinata’s already there; he rammed it into place and began to run, belatedly realizing he didn’t know where Hinata actually was.

There: on a slight slope above the park, a small figure sitting between two large trees. Tobio ran, not caring that his skin was already sweat-slick under his clothes. It was too cold to sweat this much then sit still, but he didn’t think he could last another moment not knowing what was wrong.

“Hinata,” he breathed, when he reached him on the slope. He stood with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, looking down at Hinata as if he could read the problem in his posture. Hinata had his arms around his knees, and his eyes seemed red, at least by what little light there was from the streetlights and the sky.

“Kageyama, I—” he seemed at a loss. He stood, and Tobio straightened.

“What happened?”

Hinata didn’t answer—just took an unsteady step forward until his head collided with Tobio’s chest, his hands coming up to grab at Tobio’s sweater. Tobio drew him in, his hand gentle in Hinata’s hair.

“I told my mother,” Hinata said softly. “Sh-she…”

Tobio’s stomach dropped. “She kicked you out?”

“No! Nothing like that. She wasn’t even… she didn’t yell, or anything. Just treated it like this bad joke. Like I was confused, or acting out.”

Tobio stroked his back, not sure what to say.

“She thinks… she went off on this tangent. That just because I was short didn’t mean I’d always be unpopular with girls, which just—confused me, because I had no idea what she was talking about at first. I mean, I’ve thought about it, and I guess she thinks I’m dating you because I’m desperate.” He snorted, though it sounded bitter. “Like I’d do that. I’ve never settled for anything!”

“I know.”

“So she said you were a bad influence—thinks you’re manipulating me, or threatening me, or something, and I’m not allowed to be around you outside of volleyball, and I told her that wasn’t going to happen. And at this point Natsu wandered in and asked what we were talking about and when she called you _Tobio nii-chan_ Mom _scolded_ her. Like she’d done something wrong! It’s cute when she calls you that—you always get this really funny look on your face—”

Tobio could feel Hinata’s hands trembling, still balled up tight in the front of his sweater.

“So she started crying, and Mom sent her to bed, and then… then my mother said you wouldn’t be welcome in her house, and then I said that that meant I wasn’t either, and I—ran off.”

“While she was there?”

Hinata nodded.

“She didn’t come after you?”

“It’s not the first time… I pretended to run away when Dad started working overseas, too, and came back the same day. She knows I’m not going to stay away forever.”

Tobio thought of dark alleyways and weirdos on the street and murderers and didn’t think Hinata’s mother had any sense. Didn’t she know her son was a magnet for scary guys? He seemed to attract them within a five kilometer radius, like a light drawing moths. It was dark out. Didn’t she care?

His next thought was to wonder whether his parents would let Hinata stay with them indefinitely. Probably not; people didn’t do that in real life, did they? Parents worked stuff out with other parents and kids went back home. And it wasn’t like his dad knew, either. They could both end up exiling themselves if they weren’t careful.

Not that it sounded like Hinata planned to stay away from home.

“I just wanted to see you,” Hinata said, drawing back just a little. “I’m not actually running away. Obviously.”

“She wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

Hinata snorted. “She’d have to take it seriously for that. No.”

“And you don’t…” Tobio stopped. The words stuck in his throat. He knew Hinata’s mother would be happy for him if he got a girlfriend—ecstatic, even—and liking girls was a possibility for Hinata. There was no reason for him to continue dating a boy when there were plenty of girls to fall in love with; Tobio hadn’t really felt the bite of that thought until now.

“Don’t what?”

They’d both backed up enough that they were facing each other now, though it was cold with the November wind seeming to blow straight through them. Hinata looked up at him with a shiver. At least he was wearing a coat; Tobio had left his so as not to look suspicious leaving the house.

“Don’t… want to break up?” he said, feeling like he was choking.

Hinata stared. “Why would you even think that?”

“It’s not like you _have_ to date boys—”

“What, so you’d give me up if your mother didn’t like me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I’d do, because liking girls isn’t an option for me. It is for you. I just—” _feel selfish_ “—I’d understand if you wanted to.”

It would hurt like hell, especially to see him in club every day, but he’d understand. It was just the way things went.

Hinata glared. “You stupid _turd_. I can’t believe you’d even say that.” He pushed Tobio away, and Tobio frowned back at him, barely budging. “What, you think you’re the only one who cares?”

“It would be easier for you.”

“No it wouldn’t!” Hinata shoved him again, angrily, as if his annoyance was too much for his body to handle. “Where would I find somebody like you? What would we talk about? I can’t even imagine being in love with someone else! _Idiot!_ ”

He seemed ready to run either away or into Tobio, so Tobio did the only thing he could think to do: he tackled him, bringing both of them crashing down onto the grass. Hinata kicked at him and struggled, but he didn’t tell Tobio to let go, and so he didn’t. “Fight back,” Hinata said instead, and Tobio took this to mean _pin me better_ , and so he did.

It wasn’t easy. By the time Hinata lay still beneath him, they were both warm again, and breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” Tobio said, dropping his head into the crook of Hinata’s neck. “I’m sorry for saying that.”

Hinata gave him a kick without any force behind it. “Be sorry for thinking it.

“Okay, I’m sorry for thinking it.”

“Good.”

“So what are we going to do, then?”

“Well, you can’t come to my house anymore, so Natsu is going to be sad, but other than that—why does anything need to change?”

Relief made Tobio’s whole body go numb, his breath leaving him in a rush. “Okay.”

“Maybe in time my mother will come around. She told me not to tell Dad. Well—those weren’t her words. _Don’t start this nonsense with your father_ , I think she said _._ She thinks it’ll blow over for me as long as you’re sort of out of the picture. I guess we’ll be waiting each other out.”

“I’m glad she’s not taking it seriously. What if she tried to get you to quit volleyball?”

“No way! That’s out of the question.”

“As long as you’re sure. If—”

They both jumped when Tobio’s phone vibrated between them. Tobio slid off Hinata, sitting up and taking his phone out of his pocket. He had a new text from his mother:

**Mom:**

_Just got off phone with Hinata’s mom. She's being unreasonable. You with Hinata and okay?_

Tobio sent back a two-word reply: _we’re ok_ , and a moment later his phone buzzed again.

**Mom:**

_Good. Be with him as much as you like. Mother’s orders… but come home soon._

Tobio smiled, and Hinata clambered up behind him to read the text over his shoulder.

“Wait,” Hinata said. “Does she mean…?”

Tobio shoved him. “Of course not, dumbass. She’s just being petty because your mother made her angry.”

But there was a surge of warmth in his stomach, because if Hinata was back to worrying about when they could be alone together that had to mean he was feeling better. And he looked better. There was dirt and grass on one side of his face, but there was color in his cheeks again. Tobio reached out, brushed the grass off his face.

“You look worse,” Hinata said, in a conversational tone. “And your nose is bleeding.”

Tobio covered his face. He could feel the wetness, now, dripping down over his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he said, though his voice came out funny with his nose closed.

“So it’d look like I’d won the fight. And it does! Ha.”

“Dumbass.”

Hinata smiled, and took the phone from him. He slid it into Tobio’s pocket, then slid himself in close, burrowing under his free arm.

“I just didn’t expect it,” he said. “My mother reacting that way.”

Tobio nodded. He’d expected it, just a little; she seemed so obsessed with girls chasing boys and vice versa. It was obvious the thought of her son dating boys hadn’t so much as entered her mind—not like it had with his mom.

Mostly he hoped Natsu didn’t hate him now, if she knew. But he didn’t want to ask.

“We’ll probably get sick if we stay out here much longer,” he said.

“Good. You can take care of me.”

Tobio glared at the top of Hinata’s head before looking back out over the playground, then at the stars. “Not if we’re both sick, idiot.” There was no weight behind the insult.

“Fine. We’ll take turns.”

“And miss more volleyball practice?”

Hinata groaned. “ _Fine_. I’ll _pretend_ to be sick, in our time off, and you can take care of me. Make me soup and stuff.”

And maybe Tobio was feeling affectionate, because instead of saying how dumb that was he found himself petting Hinata’s hair. “Okay,” he said, and closed his eyes. He could feel Hinata’s warmth bleeding into him in all the places they were touching, and it made him want to stay longer. They _would_ get sick if they kept this up—but Hinata’s warmth made him feel invulnerable.

“Hey, Kageyama?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want for your birthday?”

“Nothing.” It would be cheesy to say _to spend time with you_. Even body heat and stars couldn’t make him say that.

Hinata humphed. “I’ll think of something.”

“Just—” oh god, he was going to say it, wasn’t he? “—spend the day with me. Idiot.”

“Well, _duh_. That goes without saying.”

“Oh,” he said, hiding his smile in Hinata’s hair. “Okay, then.”


	14. Charging up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for putting up with last chapter's angst so well! If anyone wants to hear my thoughts about it/why I did it/shout at me you can send me a message on tumblr, but as I haven't gotten hate mail yet I figure (most of you?) are trusting me. (I hope? Maybe? Arrgh. Can you tell I feel guilty?)
> 
> edit 2014/Oct/28: my answer to this question can be read here: http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/98787761382/so-why-did-you-decide-to-have-hinatas-mother-react-the
> 
> Anyway, new chapter, new chances! Smut-averse people, ctrl+f to "We can’t fall" after reading "Neither of them was very good at holding back."
> 
> Oh--ANNNND gorgeous fanart from last chapter (who is the luckiest? I am the luckiest. *falls off chair*)
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/98444612437/rukiscroax-this-is-about-how-i-feel-with
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/98155283622/krickettking-omg-mysecretfanmoments-i-like-the
> 
> Both sfw.

 

It was uncomfortable at home.

The weirdest thing was how little had changed; his mother still fussed over him and Natsu—but there was something skittish about the way she looked at him now, and Shouyou didn’t know if it was guilt at her lack of acceptance—which seemed unlikely—or discomfort at having a possibly queer son. He didn’t really feel like telling her about his day whenever he came home from school, and there was a gnawing feeling in his stomach during dinners.

Natsu was a different matter entirely. One time when his mother wasn’t home he sat her down and explained everything, and she immediately fixated on the idea of having Kageyama as an older brother.

“Can I send him stuff?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Notes, and things, so we can still talk. But you’re not allowed to read them!”

Shouyou blinked and agreed, even though he felt a tiny tug of jealousy at the thought of being excluded. He knew it would make Kageyama happy—and that was how he ended up being something of a courier, exchanging daily messages between his little sister and his boyfriend. Kageyama had a really cute expression whenever Shouyou brought him a note from Natsu, anyway, so it wasn’t without its rewards, even if neither of them would tell him what they wrote about. The one time he compromised all his morals and peeked a little all he saw was _golden curry_ , which he and Natsu had had for dinner the night before.

He wished it wasn’t necessary. A part of him even wished no one knew, so they could do whatever they liked, and he didn’t _want_ to wish that.

It was worse on the two days when volleyball practice was cancelled for some event being held in the gym, because there would be even less time with Kageyama then.

“My mother will be home early today,” Kageyama said as they ate lunch on the second long, no-volleyball day. Shouyou sat up just a little straighter. The last time they’d been alone had been when they met up in the park after Shouyou fought with his mother, but that hardly counted. Shouyou had been craving alone-time with Kageyama for weeks.

He wanted to be together, even if Kageyama’s mother would be there. He’d be content to just cuddle for five hours, at this point, and he wasn’t normally a fan of lying still.

He desperately wanted Kageyama’s arms around him.

“So I can come over?”

Kageyama nodded, a slight blush on his cheeks. Shouyou felt something surge inside of him, and he fought the urge to lean over Kageyama’s desk and kiss him. He grinned instead.

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

 Kageyama’s house was starting to feel like a second home, what with Kageyama’s mother constantly inviting Shouyou to stay for dinner. She did the same today, though her invitation was more lackluster than usual. “Had a feeling you’d be coming over,” she said when she saw him, yawning. “I’m just heating stuff up, though.”

“Sorry for the bother,” he said, by way of thanks.

She smiled. “Want the TV?”

He looked at her: lying on the couch with a blanket draped over her, the TV playing some historical drama. He saw Kageyama open his mouth and interjected quickly, “No, thanks! We can hang out in Kageyama’s room.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Hang out?”

“With the door open.”

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes narrowing shrewdly even as a smile played about her mouth. “Okay then.”

She leaned back against the couch arm, and Shouyou bit back a grin. When he and Kageyama had let the door close partway behind them, he let it out. His stomach was tense with excitement.

“What?” Kageyama asked, obviously confused by the smile.

“She’s gonna fall asleep,” Shouyou whispered. “We just have to sound like we’re doing something normal, for a while.”

“We _are_ doing something normal, though.”

“Yeah! I’ll… um… watch you play on your DS.”

Kageyama frowned. For a long moment he examined Shouyou’s face, then he seemed to come to a decision. He walked over to his desk and drew his DS out, but instead of turning it on he handed it to Shouyou. He sat down on the bed with his back against the wall, his legs bent.

“You play,” he said. “And sit here.” He pointed between his legs, and Shouyou felt a tug in his lower belly.

“Um—”

Kageyama’s glare forbade him to say no, and he hid a smile as he got on the bed and backed into Kageyama, until his warmth enfolded him. Arms settled around his waist, and he felt his insides squirm with a mix of nerves and arousal. His whole body felt fluttery like this, and it only worsened when Kageyama dropped his head into the crook of his neck.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Charging up,” Kageyama mumbled against his skin. Shouyou shivered pleasantly, nestling in.

“Okay.” He turned on the DS, watching the familiar start-up sequence for Pokémon. “Should I start on a new game, or play yours?”

“Whichever.”

“Hmm, do you mean that? I’m going to give them all stupid names. I’m going to call the angriest-looking one Kageyama.”

“Mmm.”

He wasn’t sure if Kageyama was listening; his arms had tightened around him, but he seemed distracted.

Well, Shouyou was distracted too, but now he had a mission. It would be worth it to see Kageyama’s expression when he logged into his game next, if he ever did. The whole game seemed abandoned; Kageyama’s team was really pathetic, and when Shouyou checked his Pokémon storage he found out he didn’t _have_ any other Pokémon. Kageyama really didn’t seem to be good at anything other than volleyball, so as Shouyou made his way to the town with the name rater he caught a few Pokémon and named them after teammates or people in their class. He had plans for the ones on the team.

“Are you even watching?” Shouyou asked, after he’d named a Pokémon with funny sticky-up hair Yamaguchi and Kageyama didn’t so much as chuckle.

“Yes,” Kageyama said, and it sounded like a lie.

A minute later, after a long silence, Kageyama spoke again, but his tone was different.

“In the park the other night… you said…”

“Hmm?” Shouyou had finally made it to the name rater, and had started renaming Kageyama’s team.

“You couldn’t imagine being in love with someone else.”

“Yeah, duh.” He looked for the kanji for Suga’s name, having done the first two.

“Does that mean you’re in love with me?”

Shouyou’s hands stilled. Kageyama’s voice was muffled, the question spoken into his collar, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that not even that could hide. Was it weird, Shouyou being in love? Saying he was in love? That was what it was, right? The way his heart hammered when Kageyama was near, the way he was always impatient until they saw each other again? Was it weird to call that love?

“W-well, yeah. Right?”

“How should I know?”

Shouyou laid the DS down, leaning back into Kageyama. He caught Kageyama’s hand, placing it over his chest where his heart beat faster than it ought to after ten minutes of sitting still. He ducked his head. “I’m always like this, with you. I don’t feel right unless I’m with you.”

“You don’t think it’s weird? At our age? People say—”

“I don’t want to hear what people say!” He had a feeling it was that first love didn’t last. He didn’t want to imagine him and Kageyama growing apart, liking other people.

“I don’t, either.”

The sudden tension left Shouyou’s body as quickly as it had entered. “Good. Cause I was gonna elbow you in the stomach if you kept talking like that.”

Kageyama pressed a kiss to his neck, just behind his ear, and Shouyou shivered.

“I’m gonna check on your mother, okay?”

“Okay.”

Shouyou shuffled out of Kageyama’s embrace and tiptoed over to the door. Sure enough: Kageyama’s mother was sound asleep, the noise from the TV playing soothingly in the background. Shouyou grinned and stepped back into Kageyama’s room, closing the door very slowly. He grabbed a slipper and wedged it under the door so that—at the very least—it wouldn’t swing open in one go.

He’d always wished he could do that with his own room. There were times he did _not_ want Natsu to come in, especially lately.

“We’re not supposed to be doing this…” Kageyama said.

Shouyou grinned, turning. “But you want to, as well, don’t you?”

Kageyama was sitting with his legs crossed, his hands tight on his calves. He nodded jerkily, and Shouyou skipped forward before leaning down for a kiss. He glared when Kageyama turned his head away.

“Are you sure?” Kageyama asked, eyes on the carpet. “With the way your mother reacted… I’d understand if you wanted to put things on pause.”

“And let her ruin even more things? No way! Besides, it’s not like your mom where she has a good reason and it’s out of love. I mean—I guess my mom thinks she’s doing this out of love, but…” Shouyou shrugged. “It’s just so far from reality, you know? The fact that she thinks _you_ could lead _me_ astray. And my reasons for it. Everything she thinks is wrong and she doesn’t want me to correct her.”

He blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that much—hadn’t even thought he had that much to say—but Kageyama nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“What, like talk to her? No way! Maybe your mother could talk sense into her, but… I don’t know. We’ll see.” Shouyou shrugged again, not wanting to talk about it any more than they already had. “Here, lie down.”

Kageyama frowned but he did as he was told, seeming more eager to please than usual. Shouyou wondered why; did Kageyama feel sorry for him? Or was it because they hadn’t had much time alone together? Whichever it was, he was glad that for once Kageyama was making things easy for him. Shouyou settled down on top of him, straddling his hips and leaning down for a kiss.

Kageyama’s hand bunched in the material of Shouyou’s uniform trousers, over his hip. “This—” Kageyama said in a strangled voice, easily cut short with a kiss. The protest died on his lips, his breath leaving him.

Shouyou melted into the sensation of Kageyama so nearby, their bodies pressed together, the mouth under his opening to allow access. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the easy way Kageyama’s body responded to him, as if they were meant to be together like this. Even when Kageyama was prickly and tense, it never took him long to thaw when they were breathing the same air, hands pulling at clothes and hair and creeping under hemlines to get at skin.

Neither of them was very good at holding back.

Heat curled low in Shouyou’s stomach as he got caught up in the slide of Kageyama’s tongue against his, the way Kageyama’s hands roved over his body, Kageyama’s hips jerking up unconsciously even as Shouyou bore down.

Shouyou wondered what it would feel like without clothes, and his breath hitched. He wanted to feel Kageyama again, hard in his hand, his mouth—to make him come apart at the seams.

“No,” Kageyama said roughly, when Shouyou’s hands started questing downward, his teeth nipping at the long column of Kageyama’s neck.

 _No what?_ Shouyou thought, confused, and then he felt Kageyama’s erection through the rough material of his pants, sending a spike of excitement through him, and—there was a blur of motion, and Shouyou found himself dislodged by force.

“Not me,” Kageyama said, panting. “Just you.”

“What?” Shouyou said. Kageyama was just as aroused as he was—he’d felt it—and he was telling Shouyou not to touch him? Shouyou tried again, and Kageyama smacked his hands away. The second time he dived for the bulge in Kageyama’s pants, somehow Kageyama avoided him and pinned him against the bed, facedown.

“Stop it,” Kageyama said into his ear.

Shouyou’s breath left him. Consciously or not, the way they were lying meant Kageyama’s hard chest was pressed against his back, and he could feel his erection against his ass. Shouyou swallowed, pulses of pleasure running through his body.

“I just want to get you,” Kageyama said. “I won’t be able to relax, with my mother out there, but you can, right?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Shouyou asked, and wriggled, trying to draw attention to the way Kageyama’s erection pressed against him.

What he hadn’t expected was for Kageyama to gasp and press back, hard.

For a moment neither of them moved, and then suddenly the weight on Shouyou’s back lifted. “Shit,” he heard Kageyama say. “Shit, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Shouyou sat up slowly, trying to think around his aching erection. All he wanted was to touch himself, release the building pressure that had worsened by about a thousand percent when Kageyama had ground into him just then—but Kageyama looked like he’d just committed a horrible crime.

“What?” Shouyou said. “I hope you’re apologizing for stopping.”

Kageyama covered his face. “Sorry.”

“ _Why_?”

“I was holding you down.”

“Yeah, and it felt great.”

“But—we haven’t even talked about—I know you were worried…”

“What? You mean like who’s going to be on top?” Shouyou blushed a little. They’d never talked about it, but he’d thought about it—a lot. Mostly when he was alone in bed at night, his fingers slick, his heart racing. The thought of their bodies sliding together, connected—it was enough to make him lose his breath, even now. “I sort of figured you’d be on top, the first few times, since you’re way more embarrassed about those things.”

Predictably, Kageyama only seemed to get _more_ embarrassed after that, his posture stiffening. He said nothing—just stared.

“What?” Shouyou said, defensive. “I’ve tried it—it’s actually pretty nice. Obviously I’d like it more if it was you—”

Kageyama surged forward, his hands coming up to cover Shouyou’s mouth. His expression was one of the scariest Shouyou had seen yet.

“What?” Shouyou said against Kageyama’s palm. “You don’t want me to?”

The words were unclear, but at least Kageyama drew his hands back.

“You… tried it?”

Shouyou blushed, looking away. It was still sort of embarrassing to talk about, especially when Kageyama looked at him like that, like the thought stole all his breath away. “Well, yeah.”

Kageyama scrubbed a hand over his face. “Lie down,” he said.

A dart of electricity passed through Shouyou’s body, and he lay down quickly, intent on doing as commanded—but he rose up on his elbows when Kageyama straddled him, wanting to see what he was doing. Kageyama reached out and pushed his head back against the pillow, seeming embarrassed but determined.

“You know, you _could_ make grabbing my head sexy, but you just had to go and—”

“Shut. Up.”

And Shouyou did, more so because Kageyama was kissing him than because of an actual change of heart. He rolled his hips up experimentally, making use of the new position, and was punished by Kageyama biting his bottom lip.

Needless to say, Shouyou did it again, and felt Kageyama push back. He was in heaven; Kageyama’s hands raked under his shirt, pushing it up and dragging callused fingers over his skin, over his nipples. They’d both taken their jackets off earlier, and Shouyou wished they could take more off—but he knew Kageyama wanted the clothes there in case his mother walked in.

In a way, it was a miracle they were even doing this much.

“Hold still, okay?”

Shouyou nodded immediately, his lips tingling, already feeling the absence of Kageyama’s mouth against his. Kageyama moved downward, trailing kisses against his throat, hands spread wide over Shouyou’s body as if he was trying to cover all of it—every bare inch of skin. One of those hands came to rest over Shouyou’s mouth when he keened at the feel of Kageyama’s mouth at his nipple. His back arched, and he nodded hopelessly.

 _I know_. _Be quiet. I know_. He wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to be quiet, though, especially not when Kageyama’s other hand came down to cup his erection through his pants. Shouyou thrust up into that hand, biting at the hand over his mouth.

If it bothered Kageyama he didn’t say.

“ _Don’t_ —” Kageyama hissed, a moment later, and Shouyou thought maybe he’d celebrated too soon. Kageyama pressed one of his legs down; apparently it had jerked up when Kageyama’s hand moved. “Lie still. You nearly kneed me in the balls.”

Shouyou snorted. “Sorry.” Of course, it came out “huh-uh” with the hand dampening it. He wondered how Kageyama had kept from kneeing him in the face in the bath that time; Shouyou didn’t feel at all conscious of his limbs, his whole brain dedicated to the trembles running through other parts of him.

Kageyama descended further, pressing a kiss to Shouyou’s abs, and then his hands were fumbling at Shouyou’s zipper. It was Shouyou’s turn to gasp.

“You—”

“I’m not going to let you beat me,” Kageyama said, looking away. His face was red.

“D-do you know how?”

“Of course! It’s not math. But… let me know if I do something wrong.”

Shouyou lay back down, staring at the ceiling in stunned amazement. He didn’t think there was anything Kageyama could do wrong, if he planned to put Shouyou’s dick in his mouth. Well—maybe if he bit down, or something. “No teeth please?”

“Dumbass! I’m not going to bite you! Stupid—”

“Just making sure, geez.” His voice sounded put-upon, but he was smiling. Kageyama was working at his zipper again, and this was happening—this was about to happen—and even if he felt a little self-conscious about Kageyama seeing his erection up close and personal, he wouldn’t stop it for the world.

Shouyou’s eyes fell on the slipper wedged under the door. _Don’t wake up_ , he thought at Kageyama’s mother as he felt the button of his trousers come undone, then Kageyama drawing the waistband of his boxers down. _Don’t wake up_ —

He clutched a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut. Kageyama’s mouth had settled over the head of his erection, warm and wet and better than Shouyou had imagined it. Shouyou’s body ached with pleasure, fireworks going off inside of it, and he knew that Kageyama had told him to lie still but he _couldn’t_ , he wanted more—more of that heat around him, more of that sensation, the flat of Kageyama’s tongue running up the length of him—

He bit down on his hand, trying not to moan and whimper. A strong hand settled on his thigh, pushing it down, trying to stop his writhing. It sort of helped, but then there was another hand elsewhere, and a long finger pressing against his taint, and he was thrusting forward into Kageyama’s mouth before he thought to control himself.

Suddenly the wet warmth was gone, and Kageyama was coughing.            

“I’m sorry,” Shouyou said breathlessly. “I—that was—”

He stopped when he saw Kageyama wiping his mouth. There was a predatory smile on his face, like he was proud of himself, and Shouyou couldn’t help gulping in a nervous breath.

“Um—”

“What?” Kageyama said, the smile dissolving. He even raised a hand, as if he was worried his expression had scared Shouyou.

“You don’t have to hide it when you smile,” Shouyou said, looking away. He had a vague feeling he was the one who’d made Kageyama self-conscious about his smiles, and even if they were creepy, they were only creepy _sometimes_. Shouyou could deal, especially when Kageyama was making him feel like this, all lit up inside and wanting.

“That’s all?”

“And—please don’t stop?” he said, blushing. An answering blush appeared in Kageyama’s face.

“I wasn’t going to, stupid. Just don’t try to choke me.”

Shouyou was about to make a response when Kageyama bent down again, and this time his mouth worked slower, as if he was savoring the taste of Shouyou—caressing him with his tongue—and soon all talk was forgotten. Shouyou was out of breath again, back arching, one hand tugging at his own hair and the other firmly over his mouth, holding in whines and pleas for more, faster, _Tobio_ , please. Kageyama’s free hand inched up over his bare stomach and chest, seeming to want to hold all of him, fingertips dragging at skin, long fingers spanning across his ribcage.

“I’m—close—”

Kageyama hummed his understanding, which only pushed Shouyou closer to the brink. He wanted to moan and cry at the feeling of Kageyama’s lips wrapped tight around him, callused fingers at his taint again, and he dug his teeth into his hand harder, eyes closed tight. He couldn’t lie still—it was impossible—but Kageyama didn’t complain, keeping up a steady rhythm that had Shouyou coming apart at the seams.

“I—now—oh, hnn—”

His body stuttered as he fell past the precipice—falling, falling—and there was Kageyama, pulling him through it, hands and mouth still moving but slower now, helping him ride out his release until he was spent.

Kageyama drew back, leaning off the bed to spit into a trash can before wiping his mouth. Next he reached under the pillow for a T-shirt and used it to dry Shouyou off, the motions extremely gentle, and somehow it made Shouyou feel vulnerable to see Kageyama taking care of him like that. He felt warm, but also a little like he was made of glass. Melty glass.

His hands itched to touch Kageyama in the same way. There was an obvious bulge in Kageyama’s pants—it looked like it would be downright painful, like that—but when Kageyama caught him looking he shook his head.

“I’ll get myself later,” he said, pulling Shouyou’s pants back up before lying down beside him. He took Shouyou’s left hand and examined it, tracing a finger over the bite marks. “Idiot. At least it’s your left; it would hurt to spike like this if it was your right.”

Shouyou didn’t quite hear; his mind was still on the ‘I’ll get myself later’ comment, and he was still feeling that weird, melty warmth. “You have to think of me, okay? Later.”

For a second Kageyama looked confused—then his expression cleared, and he blushed. “I always think of you.”

Shouyou hummed happily, nestling closer. “Think of me _lots_ , then. Extra.”

He felt Kageyama nuzzle his hair. “Okay. I’ll think of you the way you were a few minutes ago. And I’ll think of how how bad you are at keeping still. Stupid.”

Somehow, Kageyama sounded pleased about the whole not-keeping-still thing, despite almost getting kneed earlier. Shouyou smiled. For a long moment he was wrapped in warmth and a peace he hadn’t felt in ages, thinking of Kageyama thinking of him, but then Kageyama was shaking him.

“Hey. We can’t fall asleep again.”

“Mm.”

Kageyama drew back, and when Shouyou blinked open sleepy eyes he saw another strange expression, all soft around the edges, looking out-of-place on Kageyama’s stern face.

“You’re hopeless,” Kageyama said, and his voice, at least, was familiar. He got up, removing the slipper from under the door and opening it just slightly. The noise from the TV was still going. “She’s still asleep,” he said.

“Good…”

Somehow, Kageyama wrestled him into a sitting position—sleepy, heavy limbs and all—and sat behind him again, picking up the forgotten Pokémon game while letting Shouyou loll his head on his shoulder. Shouyou woke up just a little when he heard a soft huff of laughter behind him.

“You named the two highest level Pokémon after us?”

“Yeah. You’re the grumpy frog and I’m the red bird. They’re dating, too.”

Kageyama’s head dropped into the crook of Shouyou's neck, and he held the DS onehanded as he clamped an arm around Shouyou, holding him close as he took a deep breath. He stayed like that for a long moment, and Shouyou thought he was going to say something—but when he unwrapped the arm a minute later, all he said was, “Go to sleep, stupid. I’ll wake you if I hear anything.”

“Okay,” Shouyou said, nestling in. He wondered what it was Kageyama had decided not to say, and then he wondered nothing at all.


	15. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the longest wait between chapters yet--sorry! I was having trouble for some reason, and then--suddenly--I wasn't, and 2000 words wrote themselves. I love this pairing so much. I am a puddle on the floor with how much I love this pairing.
> 
> AHEM. Anyway, I just wanted to say--for the nth time--how much your comments mean to me. I love hearing about the weird looks your mothers are sending you while you're reading this, where you're reading it, how this story makes you feel. I love hearing you talk about your experiences or lack thereof, hopes therefore. This is probably incomprehensible but thank you for all the great comments; thanks for giving me a window into your life and being willing to share with me. I love sharing with you, even if I haven't had time to address all your comments individually.
> 
> This time there's two beautiful fanarts for this fic by the same wonderful person... I should have a week and a half between posting more often! (kidding, kidding; don't kill me Nana I don't mean it)
> 
> http://silencedmoment.tumblr.com/post/98892339323/moving-this-here-so-i-can-keep-askagehina-blog
> 
> http://silencedmoment.tumblr.com/post/99251143568
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter while I lie here continuing to be a puddle of love and gratitude on the floor.

Tobio felt like he was wandering around in a daze.

He wasn’t sure which thought took up more of his time: the way Hinata had writhed under him, helpless and biting angry red circles into his own hand so as not to cry out, or the time after, when he’d lain warm and sleepy and trusting in Tobio’s arms. If he tried, he could still feel that warm weight against him days later, though he didn’t tell Hinata that.

He’d always hated the way people gushed about their boy and girlfriends, the way romance took up all their time, but he was starting to understand. Not that he’d ever gush out loud—especially not about Hinata, who was _definitely_ an idiot, but, well—Hinata just happened to be an idiot who appealed to Tobio in almost every way, who took up a whole bunch of his time, whose smile could brighten any bad day.

That kind of idiot.

“Should I be planning anything for your birthday?” his mother asked, when she flipped the page on the calendar from _November_ to _December_ one evening. His dad was gone again, and Tobio thought that she’d probably planned it that way so they could be open with each other. He wondered how well the whole ease-Dad-into-the-your-son-is-gay thing was going for her, but he didn’t want to ask.

“Hinata said we’d spend it together.”

“Hm, well, if you could manage not to look absolutely lovestruck for an evening, you could bring him over for dinner at the very least. _Or_ I could give you money for a date.”

Tobio looked down at his homework, spread in a circle around him on the kitchen table. He wasn’t seeing the scrawl of his handwriting, though; instead he saw the little shops and restaurants in town, imagined taking Hinata to one.

Hinata would like it, he thought, but it would be _weird_. They’d never really gone on a date, and they’d have school and practice beforehand; could they call it be a date if they were both in their track suits? And people sat opposite one another on dates, right? He liked being next to Hinata.

“Should I take the long silence as a no or as a yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there something bothering you?”

Tobio looked up. His mom stood behind the chair opposite him, her expression open. She wanted him to confide in her.

“I… don’t know how to be datey, with Hinata.” And he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to be, either, if it included things like candlelight and dancing. He wasn’t comfortable in public.

His mother sat down, leaning forward on her elbows. “Well, there’s no one right way to date someone. You mean you can’t create a romantic atmosphere?”

Even the _thought_ of creating a romantic atmosphere seemed foreign. He nodded.

“That’s fine. Especially in your situation, it’s probably better if outsiders mistake you for friends. Unless it’s bothering you and Hinata?”

Tobio shook his head. He liked the way everything still felt normal when they walked through town together. Maybe they walked a little close, for friends, and maybe they nudged each other more often than necessary, but—it was good, the way it was. He didn’t need to hold Hinata’s hand to know he was there, with him.

_I don’t feel right unless I’m with you._

Tobio swallowed. Hinata had said that like it was a fact of life, like he’d accepted it completely.

“So? Dinner here or somewhere else?”

“You think… it’s okay for it not to be datey?”

“I don’t think that’s a word, sweetheart, but yes. Love is different for everyone.” She leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of which—Hinata’s mother agreed to meet with me.”

Tobio blinked. He’d asked her if she could maybe talk to Hinata’s mother, but he hadn’t expected anything from it.

“What? You didn’t think I’d manage it?”

“I thought you hated her,” he said hesitantly.

“Well, I may not _like_ her very much right now, but I’m capable of being civil. Not everyone’s born perfect like me.”

He snorted, and she gave him a good-natured glare.

“So? You want to take Hinata somewhere?”

He nodded.

“Good. You can’t always just play volleyball.” She stood up, and then she laughed at his expression.

“Okay,” she said. “Maybe _you_ could.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Listen up, everyone.”

The squeaking of rubber soles against the parquet floor halted abruptly as heads turned, and the team drew up in a circle around Daichi, waiting to hear what he would say. Was this about Tokyo? The orange court? A motivational speech before finals?

“So, about Christmas Eve—”

There was a groan from Tanaka, who had just last week talked at length about where he would take a girlfriend on Christmas Eve _if he had one_. A few teammates stifled their laughter.

“—I know it’s normally spent with significant others, but as you guys are either single or dating each other, a few of us figured we’d have a little get-together at Coach Ukai’s store. Ran it by him, and he’s fine with it since we’re not meant to hold club that day.”

“What?” Nishinoya asked, sounding disappointed. He looked up at Ukai, who stood with his arms folded next to Daichi. “Even Coach Ukai’s single?”

Ukai glared. “You think I have time for a girlfriend when I have you and the store to manage?”

“Sounds like an excuse…”

“Sounds like _someone_ needs to appreciate me better—”

“Ah—um.” Daichi coughed. “Anyway, so, after school on the twenty-fourth. We’ll do food, and a random gift exchange—gifts can be no more than twelve-hundred yen.”

The room filled with questions—“Is Kiyoko-san coming?” “Meat buns?” “Can we bring presents for specific people if we want to?”—and Daichi waved them off.

“Not right now. I just wanted to let you know before anyone else gets in there. I know some of your classes might be having parties, too. Okay—practice over!”

Tobio looked around at his teammates, gauging their reactions, and saw Hinata grinning at him. “What?” he asked.

“Christmas Eve together. We won’t even have to lie to our parents.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little—had that been Hinata’s first thought? It seemed like it. Tobio’s first thought had been what on earth to get. “My parents are going to a party, too, so we could go to my house after—”

What was he saying? He wasn’t allowed to have Hinata over—but it was Christmas Eve. Surely different rules applied? While he considered asking his mother if it was okay, a niggling voice in the back of his head told him to ask for forgiveness, not permission.

“Yes,” Hinata said, his eyes wide. “Let’s do that.”

Tobio was a little worried he saw sparkles in those large brown eyes—and didn’t feel like he could retract the invitation. He didn’t want to, anyway.

Around them, people were starting to head to the clubroom. Tobio got up too, but Daichi stopped him. “A word?” he said, and Tobio felt his insides freeze. He nodded at Hinata to go ahead.

He faced Daichi, trying not to feel the panic rising in his throat. He hadn’t forgotten that overheard conversation between the team captains—but he’d hoped Sugawara had dissuaded Daichi from talking to them, that that was the reason there had never been a talk.

“Calm down,” Daichi said, smiling slightly. He reached into his pocket and drew something out—a key. “I promised you this over a month ago. I kept putting it off because I didn’t want to have the talk that goes with it.”

Tobio’s body had started relaxing at the sight of the key, but it clenched right back up at that last sentence. “You really don’t have to—”

“No, I do. You and Hinata are the heart of our team’s strategy, and you’ll be on this team for two more years together. I need things between the two of you to stay good, no matter what happens. Can you do that?”

Tobio swallowed. Daichi was looking up at him with that intense look of his, his mouth firm. Tobio heard all his own doubts reflected in the captain’s words—how would he manage if they broke up? What if they had a fight—a real fight? Those doubts couldn’t be batted aside easily—but at the same time Tobio felt a level of confidence he didn’t normally feel when it came to people. He cared about Hinata, and Hinata cared about him. They’d work things out, somehow, even if hearts got broken. He couldn’t imagine anything different.

Then again, he didn’t want to imagine that sort of situation at all.

He nodded stiffly, and Daichi clapped him on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I expect you can. I just needed to know you thought so, too.”

Relief bloomed in Tobio’s chest.

“That being said, if I catch the two of you at _anything_ in the club room I will make your life hell.”

“We wouldn’t,” Tobio said quickly, though he had a feeling Hinata would.

“And you won’t.” Daichi said, before sighing and rubbing the back of his head. “Suga should be talking to Hinata right about now, but I’m a little worried he’s contradicting me. Tell Hinata I was scary?”

Tobio nodded.

“Oh, right—and no sneaking off during team activities again. If your parents ever find out, it’s me and Sensei who’ll bear the blame. Understand?”

That one was harder, but Tobio agreed again. It wasn’t like he could say no; Daichi _was_ scary.

Brown eyes bored into him, but eventually Daichi nodded, and he smiled as he handed Tobio the key. “Good talk,” he said.

Privately, Tobio disagreed—but he was glad it was over, and the key was warm in his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

“Suga-san said he’d cover for us about the Christmas Eve party,” Hinata said, grinning. They were walking home together, and as it turned out Sugawara _had_ talked to Hinata—but it sounded like their conversation had been very different, just as Daichi had feared.

“How do you mean?”

“If my mother calls up, you know? He’ll tell her it’s still going.”

“Why would he do that for us?” That was the polar _opposite_ of what Daichi had intended with that talk.

“Because he’s nice? Duh.”

Tobio nodded jerkily. He wouldn’t question it, if Sugawara was willing to do it. “I don’t know when my parents’ll come home, though.”

“That’s fine. Hey, you can’t be convinced to use the club room for… _things_ , can you?”

Hinata jumped back when Tobio glared at him. He held his hands up.

“I was just asking!”

“You shouldn’t ask then!”

Hinata eyed him. “Daichi really got to you, huh?”

Tobio shrugged. That—and the club room was holy ground. Holy ground that smelled like sweat and deodorant, but still. Having a teammate walk in on them doing anything big would scar him for life.

“I just wish we had somewhere to go on your birthday,” Hinata said. “It’s too cold to be outside for long, but your dad still doesn’t know, so it’d feel sort of off to go to your house.”

“Oh—would you… um.”

“Hm?” Hinata’s face was open, curious—what he could see of it, anyway. A scarf obscured his chin, and there was red on his cheeks from the cold. It caused a familiar tug in Tobio’s stomach. _Cute_.

“D-date?”

“What?”

Tobio’s brows drew together. “Go somewhere. After practice on my birthday. My treat.”

“You mean it?” For a moment Hinata’s eyes went big and round, the way they always did when he heard he was going to be treated to something—but then he frowned. “Shouldn’t it be my treat on your birthday?”

“Do you want to go or not?” Tobio asked, his voice sharp. He blinked. That had come out differently than he intended it, angry, and when he looked at Hinata he saw a considering expression.

“You know I’m not going to say no, right? You don’t have to get defensive. There’s nothing you could want from me right now that I would outright say no to.”

He was using that soft voice, the one he’d used when he’d said _you toss to me just fine_ , and Tobio felt his face color. _You can’t just say stuff like that_ , he thought, but Hinata could. And did. And Tobio was left blushing and stumbling and not knowing what to say.

Hinata nudged him. “I want to go.”

“Where?”

“You didn’t plan it out?”

Tobio shrugged. “I thought you’d have an opinion.”

A grin appeared on Hinata’s face, and finally Tobio felt like he’d done something right. “Anywhere?” he said, as if there were more than four places in town.

“That we can walk to, yeah. It’s on a weekday, so…”

“Let me plan it, okay?”

Tobio nodded, and they walked on together in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, Hinata’s plans for Tobio’s birthday included more than just where they’d go in their free time; besides a clumsy kiss that didn’t quite manage to be romantic thanks to dripping noses and chattering teeth, there were also presents.

“This is your first one of the day,” Hinata said when they sat in the club room together before the others arrived. He handed Tobio a wrapped gift. Their faces and hands were still red from the cold, and Tobio’s fingers were nearly too stiff to undo the tape on the wrapping paper. He was glad of the residual cold freezing his face; it meant that if the rectangular present was a book like he feared, he would have an excuse to not look excited.

It _was_ a book—but his cold appraisal changed when he saw what it was about.

“He was the main setter for his team when they won gold in the Olympics,” Hinata said. “It seems boring to me, but I thought you’d actually like it.”

Tobio nodded a few times quickly, his breath gone. It wouldn’t be easy to find something like this—translated into Japanese, with such a niche audience. Hinata had to have ordered it ages ago. “I do,” he said, blindly patting Hinata’s head while he read the back. When he looked up Hinata was grinning.

“They’re not all that good,” Hinata said, when the grin subsided. “I just wanted to start strong.”

“All?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Tobio found out what he meant later in class. When he was pulling a book out of his bag, he felt loose papers he hadn’t put in there. He spread them on his desk; one was an envelope with a four-leaf clover inside (a post-it note read _for nationals_ ), one was a badly-drawn comic about the time the principal’s wig flew off, and the last one was a sequel in which the principal had to use a tanuki as a wig. That last one was crude; Hinata had drawn the creature with large balls, the way the statues were always depicted, and Tobio had to stifle laughter at the sight of its drooping genitalia on the principal’s forehead.

Thankfully, his teacher didn’t notice.

The presents continued throughout the day, mysteriously appearing ones like the comics and ones given to him outright. Besides the book, none of it was expensive, but Tobio was left stunned nonetheless. Between presents from teammates and Hinata’s shower of gifts—minus the edible ones—he had too much to carry back with him.

“You can leave extra stuff here and bring it home tomorrow,” Sugawara said, when he saw Tobio fidgeting in front of his pile of gifts after afternoon practice. “Happy birthday, Kageyama-kun.”

“…thanks.”

Sugawara smiled slightly. “You really don’t like being the center of attention, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Well, you’ve born with it well. Enjoy the rest of the day!”

Sugawara left the club room, leaving Tobio and Hinata alone. They were the stragglers; Tobio had been stopped from changing earlier by Tanaka and Nishinoya insisting he try their homemade cookies—which were surprisingly edible—and he still hadn’t changed into his clothes.

“You brought casual clothes like I asked, right?”

Tobio nodded at Hinata. He had, even if it felt weird to put them on without showering first. Hinata had changed already, and didn’t have the grace to look away while Tobio did. He grinned whenever Tobio glared.

“Not my fault you were slow,” he said, when Tobio finished changing and sighed in his general direction. He was blushing, though, and the sight made Tobio forget any annoyance he might have been trying to project. It was still a weird thought that Hinata got flustered looking at him, the way he got flustered looking at Hinata.

“So where are we going?” he asked. He hitched his bag higher onto his shoulder, and held the door open for Hinata. It was dark outside, and cold. His mother used to say that being born on the longest night of the year meant he’d always be traveling towards the sun, but what it meant in the practical sense was that it was always freezing cold on his birthday.

“The family restaurant on Main Street,” Hinata said cheerfully as he walked outside. He waited for Tobio to lock the door, then grabbed his hand. “One of my classmates has the evening shift there.”

At Tobio’s inquiring glance he added, “And, um, she sort of guessed about us, and she’s gay, so I thought… it’d be nice?”

“She guessed?”

“Ages ago, after the hickey thing. We talk sometimes; I think she wanted someone to talk to about it. She offered to take the shift on your birthday so we wouldn’t have to be that cautious.” He shrugged. “Does that bug you?”

Tobio shook his head, amazed again at Hinata’s forethought. Hinata had always been able to read him, to a degree, but the way he anticipated him now went beyond that. It felt strange to have someone know him so well—especially someone who had no qualms about offending him at other times.

He grimaced, remembering a few of those times. _You have a scary face_ , he heard Hinata say in his memory. But Hinata hadn’t said anything like that for a while. Well, not _that_ specifically. He still said things that made Tobio want to grab his hair and shout at him with surprising regularity, but it mostly happened during practice.

They collected Hinata’s bike, Hinata insisting on continuing to hold hands—he said the winter gear made them anonymous—and Tobio realized Hinata wasn’t even wearing gloves. He said he’d forgotten them this morning.

Tobio sighed, wriggling his hand out of Hinata’s grip before taking that glove off. “Put this on your other hand,” he said. Hinata did as told, and Tobio gripped his hand in his now-bare one. It was freezing.

Hinata looked up, eyebrows raised so they disappeared into his hat. Then he grinned. “Now I’m glad I forgot my gloves."

Tobio ducked his head. “Thanks… for everything today. I’ve never had a birthday like this.”

“It was fun. Especially the comics.”

Tobio snorted. There had been a third installment, in which the principal and the tanuki had a lovers’ quarrel. It had appeared in his bag after lunch. In total, Hinata had given him fourteen gifts. Knowing Hinata, that meant there were two more coming.

Tobio resolved to think of seventeen things Hinata would like; he’d need the ammunition in June.

He was still thinking of things to get Hinata when they arrived at the restaurant. Hinata’s classmate seated them in a booth at the end, mostly out of sight of the other customers; there weren’t many others there, anyway. Tobio smiled a little when Hinata slid into the booth next to him instead of sitting opposite.

It felt sort of normal. They’d been to places like this plenty of times with the team, which helped make Tobio feel less nervous—that and the way Hinata drooled over everything on the menu, clearly starving. Once they placed their order, Hinata began rummaging in his bag again.

Tobio braced himself. He wasn’t good at receiving gifts, any more than he was good at receiving compliments. It made him feel indebted, and flushed, and he had to remember he’d get Hinata back in June; he couldn’t exactly give him sixteen presents on Christmas Eve, devoid of any context. Besides, he didn’t have time to prepare.

Hinata straightened up, leaning close. “Fifteen and sixteen,” he said, holding up two strings of fabric. “Well, one of them is from Natsu, so it’s sort of cheating.”

He blushed when he saw Tobio blinking at him in clear confusion. “They’re friendship bracelets—Natsu makes them all the time, which is why hers is better.”

Tobio examined the one Hinata held up and said was Natsu’s. He was right: the one from Natsu was flatter, and more even, and also mostly yellow and pink. The lumpy one was orange and black.

“I didn’t know what your favorite color was so I did Karasuno’s. I didn’t want to ask in case you guessed.”

Tobio felt his face contract in utter bewilderment. In what universe would he have anticipated _friendship bracelet_ from _what’s your favorite color_? Friendship bracelets were a remote concept—and also something he was pretty sure girls mostly made for each other, rather than guys making them.

That didn’t stop him from flushing and not knowing what to say, though, and he saw Hinata getting embarrassed at his embarrassment.

“I-I thought it was cool!” Hinata said, getting that old, scared look on his face. “It’s fine! You don’t have to wear it! I just thought—”

He’d snatched the bracelets back, out of sight, and Tobio caught his wrist to pull them back towards him. Hinata stopped talking abruptly, and suddenly Tobio was aware of his racing heart, and the fact that it was quiet now and he still didn’t know what to say.

“Are—we friends?” he found himself asking.

Hinata blinked, and Tobio shifted back a little, knowing their faces had been too close. It was probably intimidating; he knew he was wearing a weird expression, but he couldn’t help it. _Friends_ was different than _boyfriends_ —different than partners or teammates or any of those words. _Friends_ meant you would spend time with the person even if they didn’t make your heart speed up, even if you never kissed them or even touched.

There was a difference. People said significant others were _more than friends_ , but Tobio knew more people who’d had lasting friendships than lasting relationships; friends lasted. _I’m in love with you_ didn’t mean _I love you_.

Or at least, he didn’t think so.

“I… don’t know.” Hinata looked up. “I think so. Aren’t we?”

Tobio ducked his head. “You’re the one who said we weren’t. Or couldn’t be.”

“Well—you’ve changed.” Hinata folded his arms. “You’re less mean now. I… still want you as my rival, though.”

“What?”

“Well, if we’re friends… and boyfriends… doesn’t that make the rivalry sort of useless? That’d be like having a rivalry going with your own mother.”

“Hah?”

Hinata flushed. “Just—if someone really, really likes you, don’t they go easy on you? What if I beat you and I can’t tell whether you’re being nice or if I really beat you? I promised myself, you know. I meant it, in middle school. And after.”

“I won’t let you win,” Tobio said, surprised that Hinata would even think so. He was still blinking at Hinata when the food arrived, and Hinata’s friend sent them both a smile Tobio was too distracted to return.

Hinata looked down at his food after smiling and thanking her. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

He nodded seriously, then smiled up at Tobio. “Okay. Let’s eat!”

They dug in, Tobio conscious of the fact that Hinata hadn’t really answered the question. But he’d said he _thought_ they were friends, and maybe that was enough.

He knew they’d been far from being friends, at points.

“Hey,” Hinata said, when they were walking back together. “Was it a good birthday?”

“Thanks to you.” He hesitated. “And the team.”

Hinata grinned. “Good. That way it’ll really feel like you’re sixteen now.”

“Does it really make a difference, how old I am?”

“Hmm, well, I can’t tell you that you don’t understand things because you’re only fifteen…”

If they weren’t holding hands, Tobio might have been tempted to grab his head and shake it.

“I was sixteen when we started dating,” Hinata said, stopping. They were on the corner; the same corner where Hinata had waited in the rain triumphantly, where Tobio had convinced him he’d be struck by lightning if he cycled home.

He sometimes felt like he’d been the one struck by lightning instead.

“So?”

“So I like being sixteen.” Hinata set his bike on the kickstand, turning to face Tobio. He drew the bracelets from his pocket. “I know you can’t wear them for matches, but I promised Natsu I’d give hers to you properly, so—”

“I want to wear them,” Tobio said, wondering what had given Hinata the idea that he didn’t.

“Okay. Well, you just pull on these other strings to loosen them—so you can take them off for practice.” Hinata pulled them over Tobio’s gloveless hand, tightening each one around his wrist. He looked flushed. “I told Natsu not to use pink—”

“I don’t mind,” Tobio said. He could put them in his pocket if he ever felt embarrassed; he just wanted them with him.

Hinata’s glance up when he finished tying the bracelets was furtive—like he was nervous. Why?

“Well,” he said. “Um. Happy birthday.”

And then there were hands at the collar of Tobio’s coat, grabbing fistfuls of fabric until he bent down. Hinata’s mouth met his—warm, chaste. Hinata’s breathing was shallow, and Tobio reached to steady him, his bare hand cupping the back of Hinata’s neck as he deepened the kiss.

He felt Hinata cling to him.

“Thank you,” Tobio said, when they drew apart. He pulled the glove off the hand that hadn’t been holding Hinata’s, and gave it to him. “For the way back.”

“But you need—”

“I have pockets. You have to hold your handlebars.”

Hinata pulled the glove on, his face lowered. It was red when he looked up, and Tobio wondered why he seemed so nervous.

“Are you okay?”

Hinata blinked, then nodded. He smiled softly. “I’m so ready for Christmas Eve.”

That was why he seemed unsteady? Tobio felt blood rise to his face. “Me, too.”

Then he leaned down and kissed Hinata again, even though they were in public, letting his fingers curl in the soft hairs at Hinata’s nape. It was hard to feel anything beyond that—beyond Hinata’s skin under his fingers, his lips against his—because of all the layers of clothing between them, but he felt his heart speed up nonetheless, and when he came up for air he was breathing unevenly.

“Bye,” he said, brushing his fingers over Hinata’s cheek. It was warm, despite the cold wind tugging at them.

“Bye,” Hinata mumbled back.

“Be careful on your way home. It could be icy.”

“I won’t fall and die,” Hinata said, grabbing his bike and flicking the kickstand back up. He didn’t get on, though, looking at Tobio for a long moment. “Hey, Kageyama?”

“Hm?”

“Even if… we’re not friends, exactly, I think… you’re one of the most important people, to me. Even without the kissing, or anything. You were always going to be important.”

Tobio nodded jerkily, feeling a shiver run through him. _You were always going to be important_. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

Hinata grinned. “Toss to me lots!”

Tobio watched him kick up a pedal and set his foot down on it. “I will,” he said, aware of his fast pulse, unsaid words on his tongue. He watched Hinata go, then turned down his street, burying his face in his scarf.

He wondered whether happiness would ever stop making his chest feel tight.


	16. Because you're you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short lil' update this time, but hey, it was fast! You all deserve it for the lovely comments. ;v; (and the kudos, and bookmarks--I realize I never mention them).
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy this (if you have been) and in the meantime look at this lovely artwork by Nana:
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/99749286982 ; U ; gorgeous (and sfw)

Shouyou looked down at his handlebars, feeling his cheeks blaze. What _was_ that? He’d been standing with Kageyama—he’d wanted to tie the bracelets—and this _nervousness_ had come over him. He’d felt absolutely useless with it, not sure how to look or act or what to say. Suddenly he’d been aware of just how tall Kageyama was, how dark his eyes were, the span of his hands. All of that awareness had made Shouyou’s knees weak, like they hadn’t been dating for months already. How had the sight of Kageyama in several layers of thick clothing done that to him?

Embarrassment caused him to stand up on his pedals, riding hard up the mountain. He sucked in cold lungfuls of air, shaking his head. Kageyama had noticed how jittery he was, he was sure, but he hadn’t said anything.

Well—sometimes Kageyama was tactful. Emphasis on _sometimes._

Sweat slicked Shouyou’s armpits, legs straining. He was too warm, but that always happened while crossing the mountain. He let his thoughts drift again, away from streetlights and naked tree branches shivering under the stars—traveling to Kageyama’s room, fast-forwarding to Christmas eve. _Two days_ , he thought. He knew logically that just spending time at Kageyama’s house didn’t mean anything, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they’d get to do something they hadn’t before.

He shivered pleasantly at the thought. They’d had so little time alone; was that normal? How did other high school students manage? Maybe that was why standing close to Kageyama at night had filled his body with that strange nervousness—because the cold and practice and their parents were keeping them distant.

Well—not that distant. Shouyou still got to ogle his boyfriend in the dressing room, which he savored more than was entirely decent—he’d caught himself sporting a semi once when he zoned off while staring—but that didn’t really replace being together off the court.

Being alone with Kageyama, when it happened, always felt _intense_. Like all of him was attuned to Kageyama, and all of Kageyama was attuned to him—and there was nowhere for that energy to go. Shouyou’s hands clenched around the handlebars, frustration running through him thick and heavy.

 _Two more days_.

Maybe. Depending on what time Kageyama’s parents returned at.

Shouyou arrived home in record time, and after putting his bike away he walked into the house as normal, taking off his shoes and outer layers, calling a greeting. When he walked into the kitchen, though, he found his mother sitting at the kitchen table—with the air of someone who’d been waiting.

Shouyou’s gut clenched.

“Welcome home,” she said, as if her sitting there was normal—but it wasn’t. It was past nine, and his mother usually grumbled if they stayed at the dinner table for more than ten minutes after finishing the meal. _These chairs are too cheap_ , she’d complain, winking, and they’d end up sprawled in front of the TV with the three of them.

She didn’t sit there unless it was mealtime.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

He grabbed himself a drink, pretending his stomach wasn’t twisting in all sorts of unwelcome directions. Juice in hand, he slid into the chair opposite her, his legs tensed for escape. He wished he could just run up the stairs, but that wouldn’t solve anything, either—so he watched his mother sit hunched, fidgeting with her wedding ring. She did that when she was nervous—he’d seen her do that when they waited in the hospital after Natsu broke her arm, and the time his dad was waiting to hear back about a promotion.

She hadn’t done it when they last talked about Kageyama, though.

“You were with Kageyama-kun, weren’t you?” she said at last.

 _She said his name_ , he thought vaguely. She hadn’t for weeks, not since they argued about it.

“Yeah,” he said. He wasn’t going to lie, not when she asked outright. _It doesn’t matter if you tell me not to_.

“I’ve talked to his mother a few times. I—I guess—maybe I responded too hastily.”

Shouyou’s eyes widened. What on earth had Kageyama’s mother said?

“I don’t want you to hate me,” she said, and she looked up at last. “I know I might not be the most… _modern_ mother in the world. I can’t help wishing you’d fallen in love with a girl. But Kageyama-san pointed out that my disapproval is only going to make you pull away from me, and I can’t bear that. You and Natsu are my precious treasures.”

All Shouyou’s limbs felt numb.

“So I’ll… try to understand. I never thought about… that, for you. For anyone.”

“He can visit here?”

“Maybe sometime,” she said. “Not yet.” It was a huge leap from _I don’t want you seeing him ever again_ , and the resentment that had been lodged somewhere inside Shouyou’s ribcage began to ease some.

“I know he’s a good boy,” she said, sighing. “He was so good with Natsu.”

“He still is,” Shouyou said, feeling breathless. “I’ve been passing notes between them for weeks now. He always replies the same day.”

A bemused look appeared on her face. “What?”

“She was sad she couldn’t see him, and wanted to send him messages.” He shrugged. Was it bad to admit to that now? If Kageyama being good with Natsu was what endeared him to his mother, Shouyou would use that as much as he could.

“What are they about?”

“I don’t know. Natsu says I can’t read them, and Kageyama won’t tell me.”               

“They’re not…?” Her face scrunched, her words trailing off.

Shouyou’s eyes widened. Did his mother mean what he thought she meant? “Love letters? _Mom!_ Being gay doesn’t mean being a pervert! That’s so gross! It doesn’t even make sense; she’s a girl.”

“Sorry,” she said, actually looking it. “I still don’t know exactly what it means.”

“Mom, it just means that instead of liking girls he likes boys. That’s _it_.”

“You both do,” she said, though it sounded almost like a question. “You both like boys instead of girls.”

“Yeah,” he said, knowing it was a lie—knowing it was one he had to tell, if he wanted her to accept Kageyama. If girls were an option for him, there was no way his mother would let him stay with a boy.

She sighed heavily. “It would have been easier if he was awful. I could just tell you no.”

Shouyou smiled a little. There was a tone of admission in her voice. Even if it wasn’t outright acceptance, it was getting there. “Thanks,” he said. “For reconsidering.”

She nodded, and when she reached a hand across the table Shouyou held it in both of his, feeling better than he had in weeks—better than he had at home, at least. This was the start.

He wondered whether Kageyama’s mother had met up with his today, or whether tonight was the result of a week of stewing. He didn’t really care either way.

“I’m going upstairs,” he said, and his mother nodded. He bent to kiss the top of her head on the way out, and felt her soft hand catch his for just a second, squeezing.

It felt as if a huge weight he carried had just gotten lighter.

 

* * *

 

 

When Shouyou drew apart the curtains on December twenty-fourth, it was snowing. He stood at his window before morning practice for a good minute, grinning out at the powdery flakes that floated down; they glowed under the streetlights, reflecting light as they fell, dispelling the predawn darkness. Nothing had stuck, yet, but he’d have to be careful on his way to school.

There was a flutter in his belly. He’d been worried he wouldn’t make it to school if the forecast for heavy snow was right, but he’d make it like this. He was considerably less worried about getting home at the end of the day.

“Be careful!” his mother called when he ran out. She’d only just woken up. He shouted back that he would be, but he skidded three times on his way to school and nearly crashed into the bike racks once he made it there. He would have tripped and fallen on his face while running to the clubroom, too, if a hand hadn’t grabbed the back of his collar and held him upright.

“Idiot!” came Kageyama’s voice. “What were you doing? You didn’t even hear me come up behind you! It’s too slippery to run!”

Shouyou couldn’t quite manage a glare, thanks to the spike of anticipation that went through him at the sight of Kageyama’s face. “So how’d you catch me if you weren’t running?”

Kageyama could apparently still muster a glare. “That’s different. I knew you were going to trip.”

There were steps behind them, and they turned to see Sugawara walking up. “No fighting on Christmas Eve. Did you both bring presents for this afternoon?”

They nodded as one, and hurried into the clubroom after Sugawara—without running.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning practice was a distracted affair. Everyone was restless for winter break, discussing New Year’s plans and where they would be going, shouting across the court at each other to Daichi and Kageyama’s annoyance. They were the only ones who seemed capable of focusing on volleyball; Shouyou put in his best effort so neither of them would be upset with him, but his heart wasn’t in it.

He wanted it to be afternoon already—to eat with all the rest of the team and exchange gifts and feel like he was a part of something that existed off the court as well as on it. Excitement was already thrumming through his veins, and the fact that he and Kageyama would be able to be alone together for a while after only heightened the sensation. His mother always said not to wish time away, because every minute was precious, but Shouyou couldn’t help it. English class already held little fascination for him, but on a day like Christmas Eve it was a thousand times worse.

 _Just be over_ , he thought at the class, his mouth screwed shut. An interminable amount of time later, it was—and then the next one, and the next. He didn’t feel the tight impatience in his gut let up until he was walking out of the school building with the rest of the volleyball team, a huge grin on his face. Nishinoya shoved him, and Shouyou shoved back, laughing. Even Tsukishima didn’t seem as ticked off as he usually did. Meanwhile, Tanaka seemed to have arrived at his own private heaven the moment he saw that both Kiyoko and Yachi would be joining them.

“Though _not_ ,” Kiyoko said, sternly, “For the gift exchange. I know what you guys all got each other last time. We’ll sit out.”

There was embarrassed laughter, and Shouyou wondered what she meant.

“Joke gifts,” Sugawara explained, when he saw Shouyou’s expression. “I think there was a pair of edible panties in circulation last time.”

“Edible… what?” Shouyou felt his cheeks color. Underwear that you _ate_? He couldn’t help imagining it, and it made all the layers of clothing he wore obsolete. He was so warm he could melt all the snow that had built up during the school day—several centimeters thick on the ground, now. Sugawara looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I think whoever got them just ate them normally, though, the way you’d eat a candy necklace.”

Daichi came up on Shouyou’s other side. “Wasn’t it Asahi who ended up with it? I thought he’d die at the time.”

“I think a part of him did,” Sugawara replied. Both of them chuckled, and Shouyou tried to stop feeling quite so embarrassed because obviously they weren’t. He hadn’t bought anything like that for the exchange.

They crunched over to Ukai’s shop and shucked their snow-crusted shoes before going into the back room—decorated for Christmas. There were two old couches with sagging cushions, and a wealth of folding chairs. Pillows were strewn about haphazardly, looking like they came from a few different households. The streamers and lights hung about the room didn’t quite disguise the boxes pushed to the side, and the scent of cleaning supplies, but it still had a nice atmosphere.

Or maybe that nice atmosphere was just because all Shouyou’s favorite school people were in one place.

For the first half hour Ukai led a talk, getting everyone to say something about what they’d learned so far—about their team, or volleyball, or life in general. Shouyou sat on a pillow on the floor, hands on his ankles, listening with rapt attention. He felt himself growing nervous as it got closer to being his turn, though Kageyama had to go first.

“I learned… where everyone likes their tosses,” Kageyama mumbled. There was a laugh from the group, and Shouyou waited for more—but more was not forthcoming, apparently. Most of the others had talked for much longer, but it seemed Kageyama didn’t intend to.

Shouyou blinked up at his teammates’ faces, not sure what to say either.

“I love volleyball,” he said, and people laughed even though it hadn’t been a joke. Maybe it _was_ pretty typical of him, so he smiled. “But I love being on this team even more.”

His eyes happened to find Kageyama’s while he spoke, though he’d tried to look around the whole circle, and Kageyama flushed and looked down. When Shouyou looked back at the circle again quickly, Sugawara was nodding encouragingly.

“And um. I’m really glad to be on it.”

Coach Ukai nodded, and then it was Narita’s turn. Shouyou breathed a sigh of relief.

Thankfully nothing else scary happened during the get-together; they ate pizza, and there was no edible underwear in the gift exchange, though there _was_ a bag of pasta in the shape of dicks, which Shouyou giggled at each time he saw it make the circle. He wouldn’t have minded winning it—he thought he might be able to embarrass Kageyama with it—but he ended up with a pencil case covered in drawings of dragons, courtesy of Nishinoya.

The drawings were _actually_ good, and Nishinoya glowed under Shouyou’s praise.

It was dark by the time the party ended, and Shouyou and Kageyama headed out in the same direction, waving at the others. A feeling of satisfaction kept Shouyou’s body warm, even though it was snowing in earnest now.

Like— _really_ snowing.

“This is pretty heavy,” he said, in a tone of surprise. There was a thick coat on the ground, and a lot more coming from the sky. Kageyama looked up at the sky with him, squinting.

“I wonder if the trains are still running.”

“Huh?”

“My parents. They left by train.”

Shouyou’s eyes widened. Unless they were already on their way back, there was a good chance they’d be stuck wherever they were.

He tried not to be too excited at the prospect.

“Hey, look!” he said, pointing. There was a mound of snow, stacked high. He began to run, ignoring Kageyama’s shouts not to. Before falling into it he turned so he landed on his back, soft snow squeaking under him as he landed. “See? Perfectly saf—”

The mound sagged, and Shouyou found out it wasn’t a mound at all but a snow-covered bush, and whatever branch had been holding him up tipped down. Snow poured into his face, his scarf, and he felt cold drips begin to slide down his collar almost immediately. He spluttered, moving around.

“Hold still!” Kageyama said. “You’re making it worse!”

“Easy for you to say!” Shouyou said, through a mouthful of snow. His gloved hand found Kageyama’s, and he tried to pull himself up.

A weight fell against his legs, and the insults started. “Dumbass Hinata—I told you not to move—wait, let’s just—I’ve got this—”

Shouyou shook the snow out of his eyes, sitting halfway in the bush, and saw Kageyama kneeling in front of him, still righting himself, a frown on his red face. Shouyou laughed despite the cold drips in his neck. He could feel snow caught in his sleeves, too, wetting his gloves and wrists, but he forgot about it when he saw Kageyama look up at him and freeze, his scowl disappearing. He wasn’t calling Shouyou _dumbass_ anymore—he’d just stopped talking entirely, which was almost scarier.

“What?” Shouyou asked, a smile still tugging at his lips. “I, um… realize this is a bush, now.”

“I love you.”                                                                                       

It was said in a rush, and Shouyou wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He watched Kageyama blink a few times, before sitting up as much as the bush allowed. More snow spilled down his neck. “What?”

“I love you,” Kageyama said again, and this time it was slow enough to distinguish individual words. Shouyou felt warmth creep into his cheeks, his breathing speeding up.

“Because I fell in a bush?” he asked, embarrassed.

Kageyama looked like he wanted to grab his hair and twist, the way he used to all the time, but instead he brushed snow off his hair. “Because you’re you.”

“Oh.” Shouyou took in a shuddery breath, feeling strange. There was a floaty feeling in his stomach. “I think I do, too. Love you, I mean.”

Suddenly Kageyama’s face was gone—planted in Shouyou’s stomach, which didn’t help dispel Shouyou’s nerves at all. And it was still snowing heavily.

 _We’ll be buried_ , he thought. Then someone else would come along and think their bush was a snowy mound and squash them.

“We’re gonna freeze,” he said, after a while. “This looks like a blizzard.”

Kageyama sat up a little, shuffling back before standing up and pulling Shouyou to his feet. “It’s just heavy snow.”

“We should get back, anyway.”

Kageyama looked at him, then burrowed his face into his scarf. “Yeah,” he mumbled. His cheeks where they peeked out above the scarf were red.

He caught Shouyou’s hand in his and began to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS dick pasta exists and when my childhood friend and I were 14ish she won some in a white elephant and I laughed forever so this is dedicated to her (even though she'll never know it) and here is a link to dick pasta:
> 
> http://www.amazon.com/Gasworks-7700430000-Gasworks-Penis-Pasta/dp/B0014BIY9I
> 
> your world has been enriched you're welcome :'D


	17. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments between this chapter and the last. They continue to make my day and keep me invested in this fic; you're amazing.
> 
> SPEAKING OF AMAZING THINGS... and me continuing to be the luckiest person on the planet... look at this amazing art (both sfw):
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/100168014032/silencedmoment-i-love-you-scene-from-chapter
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/100224533072/stardustedcanvas-for-mysecretfanmoments-who
> 
> (I'm not crying there's just eternal gratitude stuck in my eye.)
> 
> For nsfw-averse people ctrl+f to "When it became possible to" after reading "causing those reactions" (or wherever you start to feel uncomfortable). There is a LOT of smut in this chapter so I hope that's a good thing for at least some of you. :'D Hope you enjoy!

Tobio didn’t think he’d been this nervous in his life, not even for a match. In a match, he knew how the game worked—how to win, essentially—but there was no rulebook for being with Hinata.

In the end, he’d blurted the words that had been stuck in his throat for so long. They just… came out, and saying them wasn’t hard, but not acting weird afterwards was proving to be a challenge. He and Hinata had made it back to his house in one piece, but he was _jumpy_. Each time Hinata touched his shoulder or arm to ask him something he had to fight to keep from flinching. When his phone went in the threatening silence, he nearly had a heart attack. It was his mother.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tobio. We’re stuck. The weather’s not getting any better—we booked a hotel for the night. Will you be okay on your own?”

He blinked, his heart jumping into his throat. Now he was even _more_ nervous. “There’s food in the fridge, right?”

“Plenty.”

Guilt tore at him. He hadn’t asked her if Hinata could come over, and she hadn’t asked. Was he supposed to say now? “Okay,” he said, because she seemed to be waiting for something.

“How was your party?”

“It was good.”

“You’re home now though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Hinata there?”

 _Lie. Lie. Lie_. “…yeah.”

“That’s fine, given the circumstances. Don’t let him go home in this.”

“Okay.”

“I trust you, okay?” she said, her tone a little dark. She was trying to be intimidating, but it was useless. There was too much distance between them.

“Okay.”

She sighed. “Bye, Tobio. See you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Bye, Mom.”

He hung up, and Hinata looked up expectantly. He was stirring two mugs with the same spoon, alternating between them—they’d been in the middle of making hot chocolate when Tobio’s mother called.

“They’re stuck,” Tobio said, his voice sounding tinny to his own ears. “They’re staying the night there.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“It’s not like you could have made it home in this, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Tobio breathed in through his nose slowly, trying to steady himself. He caught the strong scent of cocoa, felt the chill in the air around him. _Hinata’s probably cold_ , he thought suddenly. _He was complaining about snow getting into his jacket_.

Without warning, he reached for the back of Hinata’s shirt, feeling around for wetness. There was plenty of it; the shirt under his sweater was damp all around the collar, and Hinata’s skin was cold to the touch. Hinata squeaked at the sudden prodding.

“Um?” he said, trying to whirl around and see what Tobio was doing.

“You’re wet,” he said, snatching his hands back. “You should change. Do you want to take a bath to warm up?”

“I—” Hinata started, then paused. “I wouldn’t mind, actually. Stir my cocoa so it doesn’t get filmy?”

“You could just take it in with you—”

“I want to drink it together!”

 _Doesn’t that mean I need to stir both?_ “Okay.”

While Hinata went to take a bath, Tobio headed for his bedroom, wanting to change out of his uniform. The bottoms of his pants were cold and wet from knee to hem at the front, and the wet had soaked into his socks, too. He changed into worn jeans and thick, dry wool socks, aware of the nip in the air; it cost too much to keep the whole apartment comfortably warm this time of year. He was quick to trade the shirt and jacket of his uniform for a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweater, too, hoping they’d be enough. Once he’d picked out warm things for Hinata—by default, there would be enough _material_ to keep him warm at the very least—he went back out, first to set the clothes for Hinata just outside the bathroom and then to stir and microwave cocoa.

He was just starting to calm down a little when Hinata surfaced, wearing Tobio’s clothes, all the hems rolled up again. Tobio’s stomach lurched; he was lucky he didn’t spill the hot chocolate all over himself as he took the mugs over to the kotatsu in front of the TV. He’d turned it on earlier, and when he slid down to put his legs under it it was already toasty warm. Hinata plopped down to his right, sighing at the warmth, his cheeks still flushed from the bath.

Tobio’s face felt warm, too, but he had no bath to explain it away. He shoved one of the mugs over to Hinata’s side of the square table.

“We should watch something happy,” Hinata said, his legs bumping Tobio’s under the kotatsu. “That’d be good, right?”

Tobio nodded quickly. A movie would give him time to steady his nerves. “There’s probably something on,” he said, moving the remote in Hinata’s direction. Hinata picked it up and started flipping through channels, and Tobio took the chance to look at him—really look.

Hinata’s hair was still damp from the shower, and he looked small in the borrowed clothes—but there was color in his face, and he looked… vibrant. Like there was a smile hidden just out of sight. When he caught Tobio looking, it surfaced.

“What?” Tobio asked sharply. Somehow, saying _I love you_ hadn’t gotten rid of his nerves at all; instead he felt vulnerable and defensive, like it could be used against him at any moment.

“Nothing,” Hinata said, taking a sip from his cocoa, eyes closing in bliss. Tobio’s stomach lurched again. Hinata turned back to the TV. “This one that’s coming on in five minutes looks good.”

Tobio blinked, not sure what he was hearing for a moment before he remembered: _Right. We’re watching a movie_. “Okay.”

Hinata moved over so they were sitting on the same side of the table, though it was a little crowded. They sat sipping cocoa, thighs touching, and Tobio hoped the movie really would calm his nerves because when it started—halfway into his hot cocoa—he was _still_ breathing irregularly, overly aware of Hinata next to him.

“I want to sit on the couch,” Hinata said, after the movie had been going for a while—as if he’d noticed that Tobio was finally able to concentrate on the it instead of him.

“But it’s warmer under here.”

Hinata looked pointedly at the blankets in a basket next to the couch. Tobio sighed, turning the kotatsu off and picking up blankets, ready to give one to Hinata. Hinata had other ideas.

“You lie down,” he said, positioning Tobio on his back. He then slid down to lie on his side facing the TV, an arm and a leg over Tobio, throwing the two blankets over them. Tobio swallowed, aware of his hammering heart.

 _Stop being so nervous_ , he thought angrily. _Enjoy it._

And so he tried to: he let his eyes rest sightlessly on the TV screen and turned his thoughts to Hinata’s warm weight against him, the way Hinata’s leg hooked around his, soft breathing against his collar. It made him feel shivery, but—not nervous, exactly. He could focus on the movie at least a little, like this, even if his body felt weird.

He noticed when Hinata started fidgeting, though. First it was Hinata’s foot rubbing against his ankle, then Hinata’s hand drawing circles on his chest, then restless shifting. It became hard to breathe, and he pretended to ignore it.

“Tobio.”

His chest constricted. He couldn’t ignore _that_. “What?”                                                                   

Hinata nuzzled his neck. “It feels right, saying it.”

“O-oh.” Tobio looked back at the TV, breathing fast. He was so tragically unused to anyone outside of his family calling him by his first name. Oikawa didn’t exactly count; he made the name an insult. When Hinata said it his whole body felt light.

Hinata moved, letting more of his weight rest on Tobio, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He closed his eyes, and Hinata grew bolder, kissing his neck, letting his hand slide up under Tobio’s shirt. Tobio’s skin felt like it was on fire.

This wasn’t good. Hinata was always the one who made the first move; he was always being dragged into Hinata’s pace, on the court and when they were alone. He sighed through his nose and grabbed Hinata’s sides, making him yelp. It was easy to pick him up and push him back into the couch, to catch his mouth and kiss him, roughly, as if his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. Hinata’s hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

“Finally,” Hinata mumbled against his mouth, and Tobio pulled at his hair in reproach, too busy to scold him for once. Hinata’s sigh told him it was anything but effective.

“So annoying,” he said, when he drew back just a bit. Hinata stuck his tongue out before hooking his legs around Tobio’s waist in clear expectation.

“Bedroom?”

“Hinata…”

“What?”

“What if it’s a bad idea?”

Hinata blinked, drawing back to look at him properly. “Are you scared?”

There was a part of him that wanted to growl something defensive— _of course not, dumbass, are_ you?—but he knew whatever he said would be a lie. He fixed Hinata with a glare. “What if I’m awful at it?”

“You won’t be,” Hinata said. “You’re good at physical stuff naturally. It’s annoying.” Then he huffed a laugh suddenly, quickly smothering it with his hand.

“What?!”

“Just—thinking about how if you were a video game character all your skill points would be in the ‘fitness’ category.”

“Shut up! I know I’m not good with people.”

“So? You’re really good at volleyball.”

He said that like being good at volleyball redeemed any number of faults. For Hinata, it probably did. Tobio pursed his lips in thought.

“You do want to, right?” This time, there was hesitation in Hinata’s voice.

Did he _want_ to? That wasn’t really the point. Tobio had fantasized endlessly about having sex—the kind of sex you saw in movies, all thrusting and moaning and collapsing together after. He’d imagined what Hinata would look like below him—above him—eyes shut—eyes open—head tipped back—to the side.

He _wanted_ to. But he sort of wished he could run through a simulation first, and decide afterwards if he wanted it to be real. How much would it change between them, if they crossed this bridge? What if Hinata stopped being in love with him after? People were always falling out of love after sex, right? Otherwise all those spurned women in movies wouldn’t exist.

“We don’t have to,” Hinata said, his eyebrows drawing together. The concern looked out of place on him; even though they were dating now, he still laughed when Tobio tripped. Having him be concerned was weird.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Tobio said. “I’m just worried it’ll change things.”

“Well, _yeah_. But, like… in an _awesome_ way. I’ve liked everything we’ve done so far.”

“People get bored of each other after sex,” he said. He couldn’t believe he was voicing these doubts, but it made him feel better to see Hinata’s face screw up in thought; at least he knew he was seriously considering it.

“I don’t think I’d get bored of you, though,” Hinata said, in that weird, easy way of his. “I mean, as long as we’re playing volleyball together, I’m always going to think you’re cool.”

Tobio blinked. “ _That’s_ your reasoning?”

“Yeah.”

And he _meant_ it; he was looking up in that guileless way of his, completely sure. _Fair enough,_ Tobio thought. That was one concern addressed, but—he wasn’t sure how to ask the next. Hinata had already said he expected to bottom the first few times, but that hardly seemed fair. Shouldn’t it be a coin toss, or something? Tobio had tried to do what Hinata had done—to practice being on the receiving end by himself—but he’d chickened out partway through, just as he was getting into it.

It was _embarrassing_. More embarrassing than masturbating the normal way.

“What now?” Hinata asked, and this time he looked petulant. “If you just glare at me I don’t know what you’re thinking. I can see this vein over here ju—”

Tobio slapped Hinata’s hand away from his temple. “Why do I even worry about you?”

Hinata blinked. “Oh, you’re worried it’ll hurt me? It’s fine. We don’t have practice tomorrow.”

“That’s not why I’m concerned, idiot! At least have some consideration for yourself. You’re tiny.”

“I’m not tiny! And that’s not stopped you from manhandling me before—”

“That’s different, though.”

“Yeah, fine. It is. But I have full faith in you, Kageyama-sama.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Hinata smiled. “Tobio.”

Tobio ducked his head. _Don’t call me that, either._

“Tobio, Tobio, Tobio, Tobio, Tobio—”

He glared, and Hinata grinned.

“Bedroom?” he asked innocently, rehooking his legs, and Tobio went this time, disentangling blankets and walking to his room with Hinata clinging on impishly. He was such a _child_ sometimes. This was probably illegal. Or—well—it should be. Hinata had never matured past the mental age of five.

He’d probably accuse Tobio of the same, though.

“Hey, say my name,” Hinata said, when Tobio dropped him on the bed. They sat opposite each other, Hinata with his knees drawn up, Tobio kneeling.

“Hinata,” Tobio said, fully aware he was being childish. Hinata’s pout nearly startled a laugh out of him, though the kick in the thigh that accompanied it didn’t.

“My first name.”

Tobio sighed. He looked at Hinata, with his hair soft after the bath and Tobio’s clothes draped loosely over him, the collar wide, the hems rolled up. “Shouyou,” he said, and it didn’t feel strange in his mouth.

“Now use it in a sentence.”

“What is this, a grammar lesson?”

“No!” Hinata said, sounding annoyed. “Just—we’ve never said it normally. Like—‘Shouyou, stop that!’, or ‘good job, Shouyou!’ I want you to say it like that, like it’s normal.”

“You’re a dumbass, Shouyou.”

Hinata jumped forward, a vicious expression on his face, and Tobio caught him, trying to pin him—but he was laughing, and Hinata wasn’t, and Hinata ended up the victor, glaring down at him. “Say it _nicely_.”

“You’re heavier than you look, Shouyou.”

Hinata glared. “Not something stupid.”

Tobio looked up at him: that vicious expression, the way he looked ready to punch him in the stomach if he said something stupid again. “I like you, Shouyou.”

“Better,” Hinata said, before flopping down on top of him. “I’m getting cold. Your house is freezing.”

He stuck his hands under Tobio’s shirt, over his stomach, but his hands weren’t cold at all. Tobio’s were—but he felt himself warm at the new proximity, Hinata’s fingers sliding along the waistband of his boxers. His breathing began to stutter.

“Hey,” Hinata said. “Touch me too.”

“My hands are cold.”

Hinata sat up and motioned for him to do the same, then slid beneath the blankets with him. He caught Tobio’s hands and placed them under his shirt at the back, shivering at the contact.

“I told you they were cold.”

“Still nice,” Hinata countered, and Tobio rolled them so Hinata lay beneath him. Instead of warming his hands on Hinata’s skin he used those cold hands to push Hinata’s shirt and sweater up so they bunched around his armpits, giving Tobio an unobscured view of his stomach. Hinata looked amazing like this: the shape of his ribcage tapering off to his midriff, the jut of his hipbones just over the waistband of his pants, the lean muscle beneath skin—his small belly button and the downy hairs that led down from it. Tobio let his hands wander, surprised when Hinata arched back in pleasure.

Tobio felt himself flush. That was the other thing about Hinata: no matter where Tobio touched him, there was always a response; he was sensitive all over, whether Tobio touched his sides or his ears or the backs of his knees—and that only made Tobio want to touch him more.

Not to mention the way it went to his head, causing those reactions.

Presently Hinata was wriggling his legs out from under Tobio to put them around his waist, a noticeable bulge in the front of his pants. Something inside of Tobio shifted, a familiar impatience overtaking him, restless and aching to be satisfied. He let his hands slide down to Hinata’s hips, leaning forward so their hips slotted together.

Hinata took a gasping breath, and then his hand fisted in the back of Tobio’s hair, pulling his face down. His aim was off—their foreheads clacked together—but Hinata continued as if nothing had happened, and once the spinning in Tobio’s head stopped he felt Hinata’s tongue in his mouth, his teeth scraping along his bottom lip, his hand still tight in his hair.

He let out a small sound of frustration, rolling his hips into Hinata. He wanted everything now. He didn’t want to take the time to explore, to prepare. A part of him was tempted to pull down their pants just enough and rub against Hinata until they both came—but then he considered what it might be like if they waited, and _did_ take their time.

He wanted both.

Hinata’s hands traveled down his back, hot and heavy through the material of his sweater, coming to tug at his belt loops: _faster, harder_ , they seemed to say, and Tobio could only comply. He reached to grab a handful of Hinata’s hair, opening his mouth wider, kissing him harder. Hinata tasted like cocoa, and the sourness that came after eating sweet things.

“Hn,” Hinata managed, seemingly trying to say something. He kicked at the back of Tobio’s leg to make him let up.

“What?” he snapped—but the effect was ruined by how breathless he sounded.

“We should start—doing stuff.”

“Uh?” Tobio was fairly sure this counted as doing stuff; they were both hard already. He was surprised when Hinata turned his head away, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Preparing me.”

It felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, but in a good way. _Is that possible?_ “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. You haven’t tried on yourself, right?”

“Not… enough.”

Hinata’s brows lifted with interest at the fact that it wasn’t just a flat-out _no_ , his embarrassed look receding some, and after a moment he grinned. Tobio resolved to try harder next time, if it made Hinata look that excited.

“Okay,” Hinata said. “Show me your fingernails?”

He did as Hinata asked. He always kept them short, so he wouldn’t scratch people in volleyball. Hinata seemed to get flustered again as he examined them, though.

“What?” Tobio asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I like your hands,” Hinata mumbled, before changing the subject. “Do you have stuff? I brought—”

“You did?”

“Uh, someone put it in my bag that time Sugawa—”

“Mine too,” Tobio said. He wondered whether the senpais in other clubs were quite that overinvested—not that he wasn’t grateful. He’d die a thousand deaths of embarrassment buying condoms and lube. “I have it,” he said before disentangling himself. Hinata let him go without protest.

He walked over to his desk, rooting around in the bottom drawer until he found the paper bag he’d stored there ages ago. A shock went through him when he touched it; he could barely believe he was going to use the contents of this bag, finally, when they’d existed to tantalize him for so many months.

“You know… what you’re supposed to do, right?” Hinata asked, sounding doubtful.

“Of course, dumbass!” He walked back to the bed, setting the bag on the shelf above it. “I’ve… researched. A lot.”

“It’s hard, right? Cause then you imagine it, and you get turned on—”

Tobio blushed. That had happened way too often. “People don’t talk about that stuff,” he said. “Stupid. You’re not supposed to mention that.”

“Yeah they do. Lots of the guys in my class talk about that stuff. Well—not guy on guy stuff, though.”

“They wouldn’t talk about it to their girlfriends.”

“You’re not my girlfriend, though.”

Tobio sighed. He didn’t want to talk about masturbation with Hinata because if he did there was a chance they’d end up talking about fantasies, and he didn’t really want Hinata to know all the things he’d imagined doing to him, and him doing back. To distract Hinata, he leaned down to press a kiss to his stomach—still exposed—and cupped him through the soft pants he’d given him to wear.

Hinata moaned at the touch, seemingly trying to shimmy out of his pants without use of his hands. The sight made Tobio bite back a laugh, and he found the patience to tease Hinata just a little—running his hands over his ass, the backs of his thighs, palming his cock through the material. Hinata kicked him.

“You’re wearing your scary smile,” Hinata informed him, his face screwed into an expression somewhere between resentment and lust, his cheeks flushed. “Do it. Please?”

The _please_ undid him; he tugged at Hinata’s pants roughly, pulling the boxers down alongside them to just below Hinata’s ass, mid-thigh, so Hinata’s legs wouldn’t get cold. Maybe he had a thing for Hinata in disarray; the sight of him with his shirt pushed up and his pants pulled down was almost too much. Tobio ran a hand over his own erection, trying to ease the throbbing there, under the rough material of his jeans.

It didn’t help at all.

He let his left hand rest against the thatch of Hinata’s pubic hair as he grabbed the lube from the shelf above the bed, his hand just a little shaky. Hinata watched him, eyes dark.

“I just… put it on my fingers, right?”

Hinata nodded.

The lube was cold, and he let it warm against his fingers before—cautiously—touching them to Hinata’s hole, feeling rude and like maybe this was a bad idea after all. “Is this—” he started to ask, but when he looked up at Hinata’s face he was biting his lip and nodding and the question died on his tongue. Shit. What had the websites said?

He began to rub Hinata’s erection with his free hand, trying to make sure he didn’t get soft or tense. It didn’t seem to be an issue for Hinata; even with Tobio rubbing slick fingers against his ass, he lacked the self-awareness that would make him clench up the way Tobio had when he’d tried this on himself. His only response when Tobio slipped a finger inside was to wriggle, and Tobio felt his face go red.

“I like—” Hinata said, and he was breathless again, his eyes glassy “—your fingers.”

Tobio’s cock throbbed in response. If he had to guess, this part had featured in Hinata’s fantasies more than once. The thought that his _anything_ could appeal to Hinata this much made him feel drunk—or what he imagined being drunk felt like. He moved his finger, not quite as methodical as he should be; all he could think was _now_ and _more_.

“Another,” Hinata said.

“Already?”

Hinata glared. “Aren’t you always saying how flexible I am?”

“That doesn’t influence—” Tobio stopped suddenly, blindsided by a mental image of Hinata bent double, his legs up by his ears, overwhelmed but determined. He slipped a second finger in wordlessly, and this time it was harder—he felt the clench of Hinata’s muscles around his knuckles, and at last Hinata had the decency to look like maybe this wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. Tobio made sure to use his left hand again, smearing precum around the tip of Hinata’s erection to distract him from any burn he might be feeling, and Hinata gasped wordlessly, his head falling back.

“You okay?” Tobio asked, his voice thicker than he’d like. His body ached with holding back, but he tried to be gentle, moving his fingers just a little each time.

Hinata looked put out. “ _Yeah_. Stop holding back so much! I can take it.”

Tobio glared in response. “You think I don’t want to rush? Dumbass! I’m doing this for—”

Suddenly Hinata sat up, grabbing Tobio’s shirt roughly and pressing their mouths together. After a moment he used Tobio’s shoulders to pull himself up, wriggling his hips to buck into his fingers, taking charge. Insults formed on Tobio’s tongue, but melted abruptly when one of Hinata’s hands came down to palm him through his jeans. He groaned into Hinata’s mouth, his movements becoming frantic instead of measured, his fingers moving faster inside Hinata.

He wasn’t expecting Hinata to buckle and shout, though.

“Wait! Stop, stop—not there. I’ll come.”

Tobio blinked. So… that was a good spot? He tried to remember how he’d reached it, the exact angle of his fingers.

“ _I said stop!_ ” Hinata said, and the next thing Tobio knew his head was ringing, pain blossoming all over his forehead.

“ _You didn’t have to headbutt me, dumbass!_ ”

“You weren’t stopping!” Hinata’s hand seemed to be clenched around the base of his erection, and he looked supremely embarrassed. “I don’t want to come before you do.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tobio retracted his fingers to add more lube, and Hinata lay back down, watching him suspiciously.

 _I’m not going to do it, again, dumbass,_ Tobio thought at him _._ This time, he focused on stretching Hinata out the way he’d read about online, and soon he could fit a third slicked finger in, and Hinata was starting to pant again, no longer able to glare. His renewed squirming made Tobio aware of his own arousal; the ache inside his jeans had abated some as he tried to remember the more technical stuff, but seeing Hinata writhe beneath him with his clothes all undone caused it to return with a vengeance.

 _He has to say he’s ready_ , Tobio thought, biting his lip. He leaned down to press a kiss to Hinata’s collar bone through the shirt, then his nipple, and Hinata’s frustrated moaning took on a new pitch.

“I’m ready, right?” Hinata said. “Please say I am.”

“I—think so?” He felt around for that spot again, just once, and Hinata pushed back into him, groaning. “Yeah, I think so.”

When he drew his fingers out, Hinata scrambled up, reaching into the bag for a condom before ripping the foil packet open; it was all done in the time it took Tobio to wipe his fingers. Then he looked at Tobio’s jeans.

“Hold this,” he said, handing Tobio the half-open packet, reaching for the button on his jeans. Tobio clenched his teeth at the feeling of Hinata’s hands at his crotch, undoing the button, pulling the zipper down. He rose up on his knees just a little so Hinata could pull them down to his thighs.

“Put it on,” Hinata said, looking flushed.

Tobio’s hands were shaky. He took the condom from the packet, remembering Sugawara’s lesson, which side had to be up for it to roll down. He placed it at the tip of his erection and began to roll down, blushing at the rapt attention Hinata was paying him.

“It’s embarrassing when you watch like that,” he said, pushing the roll down to the base. It didn’t feel like much of anything, though it was strange to see his erection like that, with the thin membrane covering it. Hinata ran his fingers down the underside, and Tobio sat down on his haunches, blushing. At his expression, Hinata pulled one of his own pant legs down all the way and spread his legs, scooting forward so they were nearly touching.

Tobio felt a new bout of nerves coming on as he reached for the lube a third time, slathering it over the condom. They were really going to do this—him and Hinata. He wiped his slick hands off on his undershirt.

“Wait,” Hinata said, reaching for the hem of Tobio’s shirts and pulling them both over Tobio’s head in one go. He admired his handiwork, fingers tracing Tobio’s abs. “Better.”

“Don’t say embarrassing things like that,” Tobio said, but his voice was hushed.

“We’re about to _do_ embarrassing things,” Hinata said, looking up. “I don’t think saying them matters.”

That was true enough. Tobio leaned forward, and Hinata lay back down, his eyes on Tobio’s. This time they weren’t glassy; they were intent. Tobio pressed down against him, teasing Hinata’s mouth open with his, slipping his tongue inside, the motions of kissing familiar but different, now that things were changing.

“Kageyama,” Hinata whispered. “Do it. I want it.”

Tobio closed his eyes tightly, hiding his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck as he positioned himself at Hinata’s entrance, pressing just a little. It felt incredibly warm against his tip.

“You’re sure?” he whispered.

Hinata didn’t call him stupid—just nodded—and Tobio pushed forward into him, soon becoming lost in the sensation. The heat and the pressure felt unlike anything, but it wasn’t just that: it was Hinata breathing unevenly under him, Hinata’s hands on his shoulderblades, the fact that they were even _doing_ this—he moved back, and forward again, and when he felt Hinata’s foot tap against him in encouragement he stopped holding back, burying himself completely. He gasped and lay still, trying to steady his breathing.

“You’re supposed to move,” Hinata said, voice a little strained.

“I’ll come if I move.”

Hinata sniggered, and that killed the tense, brink-of-orgasm feeling more effectively than lying still had. Tobio whispered an insult under his breath and drew himself up so he could see Hinata, recriminations on his tongue, but he forgot them at the sight of Hinata’s flushed face, brown eyes heavy-lidded. In combination with the feeling of Hinata’s legs around him—the way he was buried inside the other boy—it cleared Tobio’s head of all thoughts. Looking at Hinata like this was strange, and new, and he felt warmth and a prickling sensation in his eyes.

 _Oh god. No._ He ducked his head so Hinata wouldn’t see, thrusting hard, and Hinata let out a gasp that might well qualify as a yell. Tobio tried to make his next movement gentler, aware of that spot inside of Hinata, what angle was likely to hit it—trying to apologize wordlessly for his sudden movements—but it wasn’t easy. Mostly Hinata seemed to be trying to accommodate him, which was new and unwelcome.

He needed Hinata to feel good.

So he used his hands, letting them roam Hinata’s smooth skin, glad he was still kneeling and hadn’t lain down like he’d been tempted to. Like this, he could move and touch at the same time, and the moans that came from Hinata when he touched him were worth any inconvenience. He rolled his hips in time his hand on Hinata’s erection, still thinking of the way Hinata had shouted earlier, and as Hinata’s voice became louder he thought he might be getting close to the spot.

“T-Tobio—”

He heard himself make some sort of groaning response, which would have been mortifying if Hinata didn’t sound so lost, too. Fire was flooding his body, the chill of the room forgotten, his fingers digging into Hinata’s skin. Hinata was canting his hips up to meet him, legs tight, fingers pulling at Tobio’s hair, and suddenly Tobio needed to be kissing him, needed to be connected in every possible way.

It wasn’t a kiss so much as a clashing of lips and teeth—he tasted blood in his mouth—but Hinata met force with force until gasps interrupted, Hinata’s voice rising, his movements changing, and then Tobio felt wetness against his chest and _he’d done it_ , he’d actually made Hinata come, and when he sneaked a glance at Hinata’s face—eyes closed, mouth open, a haze of bliss over his features—he felt himself fall off the same edge, all the tension in his body building up to one sweeping crest that made him shudder into Hinata, over and over, no longer concerned with being gentle. His mind went completely blank, his whole world turned to sensations—just Hinata’s skin, his scent, his voice.

All he knew was that he wanted to stay there.

When it became possible to think again, he worried that he’d been too rough—but Hinata’s hands were still caressing him, and he seemed to be humming under his breath.

“…Hinata.”

“Hm?”

“Are you…” _In pain? Happy? Disappointed?_ “Was it… okay?” It had been short. _Definitely_ short.

“Better than okay,” Hinata said, giving Tobio the courage to lift his head. Hinata grinned. “Right?”

Tobio ducked his head into Hinata’s shoulder. Having that thousand watt smile directed at him while he was still inside of Hinata was too much for his hazy brain to handle. “Yeah.”

He sat up a little, lifting Hinata’s hips so he could pull out, trying to remember Sugawara’s lesson. Tie up, put in tissue, put in trash. He wiped his hands after, and used the T-shirt he’d been wearing before to wipe the cum off his chest and Hinata’s stomach, which—for some reason—made Hinata giggle.

“What?” Tobio asked. He felt like his skin was transparent again, the same way he’d felt after their bath together that time, but he didn’t mind it as much. He hadn’t even bothered to button up his jeans yet, though he’d pulled them up along with his underwear.

“I don’t know. I just feel sort of weird.” Hinata bounced on the bed, pulling his borrowed trousers back up.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Tobio asked.

“Not bad—hey, you’re wearing the bracelets I gave you. I didn’t even notice.”

He looked down at his wrist. They were easy to tuck into his sleeve; he’d forgotten he was wearing them too.

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

He was still standing wearing only his jeans—the hairs on his arms were raised. “I guess.”

“ _Stupid_. Come here, then.” Hinata moved back in the bed to make space, and Tobio pursed his lips. Really he should shower, but he didn’t want to take the time away from Hinata; he had a feeling that if he left, he’d be scared to come back.

That was a stupid feeling, wasn’t it? Or maybe Hinata felt that way too, and that was why he’d moved over like that. Tobio stood for another moment before deciding to forego a shower in favor of rejoining Hinata in the bed; his only pause was to rub hand sanitizer on his hands, figuring it was better than nothing. Hinata stopped him from putting his sweater back on, tugging at him to lie down.

“Here, I’m warm, see?”

To prove it, he rolled to lie on top of Tobio, a solid weight in the center of his chest. He pulled the blankets up over them.

“Heavy,” Tobio complained.

“No’m not.”

He was—at least for a guy his height—but it was sort of nice having Hinata’s weight pressing down on him, even if it made it hard to breathe. He put his arms around him, burying his hands in the familiar fabric of his shirt. Hinata’s scent was surrounding him, mixed with all the smells of home and the astringent from the hand sanitizer he’d used.

“We should clean up,” he said, with his nose nuzzled into the hair at Hinata’s crown. He wished they didn’t have to.

“Later. We have all night, right?”

 _All night_. It sounded like a promise—all night to hold Hinata and press kisses into his hair and maybe muster up the courage to ask him how he felt about what had just happened beyond _was that okay_.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, because out of all the questions he wanted to ask that one was the easiest.

Hinata rose up a little. “You can call me Shouyou some more,” he said, smiling. “From now on, you could only call me that.”

Tobio frowned. “That’d be embarrassing.”

“Would it?”

“Maybe… not very. Just for a while.”

Hinata’s smile at his words made him think that maybe it’d be worth the effort of trying, after all, but the warm glow faded when Hinata snuggled back in and said, “I know I’m _Shouyou_ in your phone, anyway.”

He glared, though it was only for his own benefit; Hinata was turned away again. “You weren’t meant to see that,” he said. Hinata had always been about twenty times too interfering—ever since he’d confronted Tobio’s teammates outside the bathrooms in their middle school tournament; ever since he’d sworn vengeance. Maybe he liked that about Hinata, though—the way it was impossible to pull away from him, the way he was always so _there_.

“I know. That made it better. I changed you to _Tobio_ as well, when I saw.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. _Ages_ ago. Hey, do you have your phone? You should set an alarm for an hour from now.”

“Why?”

“In case we fall asleep. I don’t want to just sleep all night.”

Tobio set the alarm. There was a knot in his stomach, but it was mostly anticipation—because he didn’t want to just sleep, either. He wanted to spend time together and maybe try watching another movie—maybe drink more hot cocoa and have a midnight snack—that kind of thing.

“I wish we could do this more,” Hinata said, and Tobio tightened his arms around him, glad for Hinata’s weight pressing into him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do, too.”


	18. So this is the new year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments continue to be the best ever--thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> I'm amazed to tell you--and I hope that this doesn't come as a shock--that this is the last chapter of the "main" storyline. I'll be writing an epilogue for this sometime in December, and may write small companion pieces to show snapshots of the relationship here and there, but this is the "ending" for now as I'll be doing National Novel Writing Month through November, and need to stop writing so much fic. 
> 
> Excuse me while I go sob in a corner. 
> 
> Gorgeous fanart for last chapter:
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/100528216817/silencedmoment-cant-hold-back-chapter-17 (nsfw)
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/100529491307/silencedmoment-hinatas-hair-was-still-damp (sfw)
> 
> and an extremely cute piece from chapter 3, also sfw: http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/100635034167/mothgeist-i-fixed-up-that-doodle-i-posted-last
> 
> There's a smattering of sex thoughts at the start, but for nsfw-averse people skip from "hands in his hair" (or wherever) to "Shouyou collapsed"
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think, as always, and thank you for sticking with me. ; U ;

An alarm beeped above Shouyou’s head, and he groaned—until he remembered where he was, and who with, and that the alarm was nothing to groan about. The light in the room was still on, and he could admire Kageyama’s bare chest as he reached to turn the alarm off.

 _He looks amazing_ , Shouyou thought. He felt a weird, possessive glow when he looked at Kageyama now, more so than before, and it tugged low in his body and made him want to run his hands all over Kageyama’s visible skin.

Of course, Kageyama ruined that with the glare he fixed on him once he’d turned the alarm off.

“What?” Shouyou asked.

“I dreamt you were pregnant.”

He snorted, hard. “Do you need another lesson from—”

“Shut up! I can’t control my dreams.” Kageyama frowned. “We should shower.”

“We?” Shouyou was grinning, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, we. Unless… you want to be alone?”

Shouyou rose up on his elbows, looking at his boyfriend incredulously. This was their one night together where they could be as loud and obvious as they wanted; who knew when they’d get another chance like this? He didn’t want to waste a minute of it alone.

Well, aside from bathroom breaks, which he could really use right now.

“No, but I need to pee,” he announced. Kageyama rolled out of the way almost instantly, standing and pulling on the sweater he’d had on before they had sex—though not the lube-smeared shirt he’d worn under it. Shouyou followed, pushing himself up and then—

His whole body felt weird. He’d been aware of a sort of numb feeling in his muscles while he was lying down, but he hadn’t been braced for feeling quite as sore as he did once he used them, and he would have fallen right back onto the bed if Kageyama hadn’t caught him.

Of course, Kageyama looked way more horrified than the situation warranted. Shouyou stretched, getting a feel for where his aches were and what he’d have to look out for, and all the while Kageyama’s fingers dug into his biceps.

“I’m fine,” Shouyou said, waving him off. “Stop looking like that.”

“Where do you need to go? I’ll carry you.”

He sounded so serious that it made Shouyou blush. How fragile did he think he was? “I can walk,” he said, taking a step despite the hands clamped around his arms. “See?”

Kageyama let go slowly, and allowed Shouyou to walk to the toilet on his own. He really was okay—he just hadn’t anticipated all the different aches. When he returned to the living room after, Kageyama’s shoulders were high and tight, like he had something to apologize for.

Shouyou whacked his back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I’m fine! Seriously. I…”

He paused. _I kind of like it_ made it sound like he enjoyed being hurt, which wasn’t really the case, but he liked the way it reminded him of what they’d done together—what it felt like to have Kageyama inside of him. He knew he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing up because his whole body felt different—and he liked that.

“I… like having the reminder,” he said, cautiously.

At that, Kageyama’s face went through several stages of disbelief before arriving at some higher form of embarrassment, redder than Shouyou had ever seen it. “Let’s shower,” he mumbled, barely moving his mouth. Shouyou bit back a laugh and followed him.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, there was something special about the way Kageyama touched him— always gentle, tentative, as if every point of contact was important. Shouyou would have liked to bathe in it forever; if Kageyama was being stupidly affectionate, he’d gladly drink up that stupid affection, especially when it sent shivers across his skin and made him feel like fireworks were going off inside his body.

Of course, he didn’t have much opportunity to do anything _but_ bathe in it when Kageyama yelled at him to let him do everything, both in the shower and when he heated them some food after. Shouyou took _go rest_ to mean _do whatever you want_ , though, and so while Kageyama stood in the kitchen waiting for the microwave to beep, he stood behind Kageyama with his face smushed between Kageyama’s shoulder blades, his hands playing with the waistband of Kageyama’s pajama pants, slipping beneath it, fidgeting until he felt Kageyama grow hard.

“Stop it!” Kageyama snarled, with twelve seconds to go on the microwave timer. He’d lasted almost two minutes.

“I like it,” Shouyou said. _Touching you_. The way Kageyama’s body responded to him made him feel all light inside, not to mention the way it made Kageyama all flustered and embarrassed, even when they’d already done much more than just touch. It was funny. He touched Kageyama’s hardening erection, all firm and silky, and heard Kageyama inhale sharply. “You like it, too.”

The microwave beeped, and Kageyama wrenched Shouyou’s hands out of his pants, movements jerky. He glared down at the food as he pushed half the leftovers onto another plate and carried both over to the kotatsu. Shouyou slid in place next to him, making it hard for Kageyama to use his right hand. He expected a scolding.

When he sat down, though, it hurt a little, and the murderous look on Kageyama’s face softened when he saw Shouyou flinch. Instead of scolding, he pressed a dry kiss to Shouyou’s cheekbone.

“Let me know if I can do anything,” he said, and moved to give Shouyou more space, which immediately caused Shouyou to nuzzle into him affectionately. Kageyama sighed and put his chopsticks down, sliding his hand into Shouyou’s hair.

“I love you,” Shouyou said, because he’d added an _I think_ last time, and he knew it wasn’t just a thought. It was a feeling, and it encompassed the ache in his body and the hand in his hair and Kageyama’s brittle personality melting away to gentleness.

The hand in his hair tightened, and Kageyama pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re annoying,” he said in his normal voice, but Shouyou had his palm on Kageyama’s chest and felt his heart thunder.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, let’s eat!”

Shouyou shoveled food into his mouth, ignoring his discomfort, and slowly Kageyama began to, as well. He was being very quiet today, even though it seemed like he wanted to talk about something—Shouyou wasn’t sure what. It didn’t _seem_ like Kageyama was having second thoughts, besides his obvious concern about Shouyou’s wellbeing—but what else was there? How their families would feel? Shouyou had already told him about his mother’s change of heart, so they were better off than they had been a week ago. Was it because they’d directly disobeyed one of his mother’s conditions?

When they’d stuffed themselves full and a different movie was on the TV, they leaned back against the couch together, Shouyou shifting a little onto his left butt cheek.

“So what?” he asked, at long last. “Do you feel guilty because your mother told you not to and then we did?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I never said I wouldn’t.”

Shouyou smiled. “So what then? My mom?”

Kageyama shook his head. “I’m happy she’s starting to reconsider, too. I just…” His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Shouyou intently. “You’re not pretending it was good, right?”

Shouyou stared, feeling his face heat up. “No.” Did Kageyama think he was that good an actor?

“It was short,” Kageyama said, and Shouyou glared.

“I couldn’t help it. I did my best not to come quickly but—”

“I don’t mean you!”

Shouyou frowned. He imagined Kageyama pounding away at him after he’d already come; how was that any better than what had happened? “Were _you_ disappointed?”

Kageyama shook his head mutely. “Just worried that you were,” he mumbled, and Shouyou sighed heavily.

“I’ll tell you if you do stuff wrong. Stupid.”

Kageyama turned his face away, but Shouyou could tell he was smiling. _Better_ , he thought, before crawling into Kageyama’s lap, taking no care with his knees and elbows, turning Kageyama back into his familiar, cranky self. Shouyou hid a smile in his neck as Kageyama scolded.

“So mean,” he whined, knowing he was the mean one. Kageyama told him so, and Shouyou smiled more. For a while it was possible to cuddle and pay attention to the movie, and the one that came on after—they had more hot chocolate, and a few lazy kisses, and hand-holding that turned into thumb-wrestling that turned into full-body wrestling—but eventually Shouyou felt that urgency again, and this time it didn’t take much convincing for Kageyama to bring him back to bed.

This time, they took off all their clothes, and Kageyama moved him this way and that, pressing kisses to his stomach, his shoulder blades, his calves. Shouyou twitched under him, impatient for the tension building in his body to release again, but Kageyama took his time. When he surfaced from exploring Shouyou’s body beneath the blanket, his hair stood on end and his eyes were heavy-lidded.

He looked good like that.

When he leaned down to kiss Shouyou, Shouyou rose up to meet him, wishing he could touch every inch of Kageyama’s tan skin. There was nothing soft about Kageyama’s body, not in the way girls were soft, but his skin was smooth, and the way he moved now was slow and deliberate. It made Shouyou’s body feel heavy with longing, even when they were pressed together like this, tongues sliding together, hands in hair.

“Again?” Shouyou asked, anticipation making his voice sound higher than usual. He was sore, but he could take it. He wasn’t _that_ sore.

“Stupid. You’d get more hurt. Isn’t this enough?”

Kageyama brought his hand down to where their erections were pressed together, and Shouyou felt a jolt go through him at the contact.

“Y-yeah… I guess…”

A downward stroke that turned Shouyou’s insides to jelly, and then: “You guess?”

“You’re mean,” Shouyou said, and this time he meant it. He didn’t want to feel like he was being left behind; Kageyama was being weirdly smooth, and it made Shouyou feel a childish impulse to shake his calm. It was Kageyama, after all, and even if his slow movements made fire thread through Shouyou’s veins, Shouyou didn’t want be outdone.

Kageyama barely fought him when he pushed at his shoulder, and his heavy-lidded look didn’t change when Shouyou straddled him, rubbing against him, biting his lip when they kissed. Kageyama’s hands ran up and down his sides, making Shouyou’s body jerk with repressed laughter. It was ticklish, but the arousal distracted him from it. He touched Kageyama the way Kageyama had touched him, watching him bite his lip and tilt his head back, jaw squaring.

He was holding back from doing _something._ Shouyou just didn’t know what.

“Why’re you so quiet?” Shouyou whispered, still moving even though the muscles in his thighs protested. Kageyama’s hand landed over his collarbone, twitching, as if it wanted to grab something or ball into a fist. He was _definitely_ holding back.

“You want me to talk at a time like this?” he replied in a hiss, but there was no heat in it, and he was whispering too—as if they had to be quiet this time.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m trying not to hurt you this time, dumbass.”

“You can grab me,” Shouyou said, finally guessing what that hand wanted to do. “How often do I have to tell you I like it?”

Kageyama sighed heavily, and—as if he was steeling himself for something—he rose up on his elbow and let his free hand curl into Shouyou’s hair at the back, pulling him into a hungry kiss, his hips pushing up into Shouyou’s.

 _Finally_. That was more like it. Shouyou met force with force, his hand and his hips moving faster. It didn’t feel right when Kageyama held back; he wanted Kageyama to meet him halfway, always, their rivalry stretched and molded into something new entirely, still with the same fire driving it.

When Shouyou’s movements rose to a fever pitch, their kiss got clumsy, and Shouyou felt fabric against his stomach. He bit Kageyama’s neck as he stuttered forward, losing control, and heard a corresponding gasp from Kageyama, who fell back and thrusted up until his movements got slow and directionless. Shouyou breathed heavily as he came back from his orgasm, his hands on either side of Kageyama as Kageyama wiped them off with the T-shirt he’d grabbed. For once, there was no mess.

Shouyou collapsed on top of him when he threw the T-shirt on the floor, able to appreciate his nakedness again. _So much skin_. Kageyama was so much bigger than him, solid and warm and with a height advantage Shouyou would kill for, but didn’t spend as much time envying these days.

“I’ll get tall one day,” he mumbled to Kageyama’s collarbone. Arms were around him again, loose but heavy.

“I like you this size,” Kageyama mumbled back. His hand slid down Shouyou’s spine to the small of his back, then to the curve of his ass.

“’S not good for volleyball.” Shouyou nuzzled in.

“You don’t need to be tall,” Kageyama said with an edge to his voice—as if Shouyou’s desire to be tall was a personal insult to him.

He probably _did_ think that way, still. _As long as I’m here, you’re invincible._ But the fact was that they’d be up against stronger opponents in the spring tournament, and what about after high school?

“I need to keep up with you,” Shouyou said, knowing that whether he grew or not wasn’t really up to him.

“…okay,” Kageyama said at last, though it wasn’t up to him either. Shouyou rose up a little to look at his face; he’d just had an idea.

“Hey, are you doing anything for New Year’s Eve?”

“No, why?”

“Wanna go to the shrine with me?”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

                                                                                                                   

Shouyou had expected Kageyama to shoo him from the house come morning—his parents weren’t going to be delayed forever, after all—but he didn’t even mention the possibility of Shouyou leaving; they ate breakfast together, and when Kageyama’s parents came home they had lunch with all four of them, Kageyama’s mother sending narrow-eyed looks at her son when her spouse wasn’t looking, Kageyama’s father seeming pleased that Shouyou was a good enough friend to stay over.

Kageyama’s dad not knowing about their relationship yet was a problem for another day. Shouyou was happy to pretend in front of him, pressing his ankle against Kageyama’s under the table even as he regaled Kageyama’s parents with stories about yesterday’s get-together, not leaving out the penis pasta no one had admitted to bringing, won by Tanaka because he “had to show Saeko”. Shouyou bit back a smile when Kageyama ducked his head over his plate and pressed back sometime during the story.

As the afternoon wore on, though, Shouyou knew he had to head home. He’d texted his mother that he was staying the night at Sugawara’s house last night, but if Kageyama’s parents were home that meant the roads were good enough to be out on them, and he didn’t think Kageyama’s mother would let him stay another night. It got dark so early this time of year; he’d have to head out by midafternoon to make sure the snow that had been cleared by plows and melted by the sun didn’t turn to ice while he was cycling home. He couldn’t let Kageyama’s mother drive him home after the lie he’d told his mother.

“Walk you out,” Kageyama mumbled, when Shouyou announced that he had to leave. Kageyama’s parents waved them both out, and soon he and Kageyama were standing outside squinting at the snow sparkling in the sunshine, pretty as it melted. Shouyou was about to sigh and collect his bike when Kageyama grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. The would-be sigh left Shouyou in a rush and he leaned into the embrace.

They were quiet for a long time, Shouyou breathing in the scent of Kageyama and letting it fill his body, as if he could carry it around with him all day if he breathed in enough of it.

“Wish I didn’t have to go,” he said at last, earning a grunt of agreement. “At least we have practice again tomorrow.”

Kageyama didn’t let go.

“I can call you?” Shouyou offered. “Tonight?”

“I’d… like that.”

He looked up, trying to see the expression accompanying that statement. “Really?”

Kageyama’s eyes slid away from his. “Of course, stupid.”

“And we’ll go to the shrine at New Year’s?”

“I said I’d go, didn’t I?”

Shouyou grinned. “Good.”

At long last, Kageyama released him, and he was free to take off along the slushy road, heading home. Cycling was painful right now, and Shouyou stood up on his pedals instead of sitting down, arriving home in record time. When he checked his phone before entering, he saw he had a new text from Sugawara.

 _Just so you know_ , it said _, you were dead tired after the party and fell asleep by nine pm, when your mom called mine._

Shouyou’s heart hammered. _ur mom lied for me?_ he sent back, walking into the house. His mother and Natsu greeted him normally, the latter clinging to his leg until he shook her off. His mother didn’t even ask about his time at Sugawara’s, so he didn’t have to lie.

He was walking to his room when his phone buzzed again.

 _No_ , Sugawara had sent. _But lucky for you, Daichi thinks my imitation of my mother is hilarious. I’ve perfected it over the years_.

Shouyou snorted as he walked into his room. He tried to imagine his normally-serious team captain laughing over Sugawara’s antics, and found that he couldn’t; he’d just have to take his word for it.

He sighed and let himself fall down on the bed, tired from a night of little sleep. He wondered how long he’d have to wait before calling Kageyama, replaying last night in his mind.

He hoped there would be more snowstorms.

 

* * *

 

 

Shouyou’s smile was stiff as he walked to meet Kageyama in front of the shrine, Natsu’s small hand clamped in his. He’d told his mother the whole team would be there, but she’d foisted Natsu off on him anyway, saying that if he was old enough to abandon his mother on New Year’s Eve he was old enough to take care of his sister.

He liked Natsu, but he’d been hoping for a certain kind of atmosphere that was impossible to reach with his sister there. At least it wasn’t snowing, so it already didn’t match Shouyou’s imaginings—which _maybe_ included having to take shelter at Kageyama’s house again, and _maybe_ ended with him spending the night. He couldn’t help imagining those things; the past few days had been torturous, seeing Kageyama at their extended practices, watching him direct the ball and bend into crouches, the way he wiped at his mouth after drinking water—the way he did anything, really. Worst were the times when he caught Kageyama looking at him in the same way, and felt a wave of heat travel through him.

And of course, because little sisters were experts at taking everything their older siblings loved, _Natsu_ was the one who ran up to Kageyama when they saw him waiting at the stairs, his hands in his pockets, and _she_ was the one who got picked up and hugged—not that Shouyou wanted to be picked up, of course—and Kageyama didn’t even look disappointed to see her. In fact, he got that stupid awestruck look that he always got when Natsu showed affection, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

 _Maybe it’s a_ little _cute,_ Shouyou thought resentfully. If he hadn’t had such unrealistic expectations for the night he might have been a little more giving, but instead he walked up to where his sister was taking up all his boyfriend’s attention clearly sulking.

“Hi, Shouyou,” Kageyama said, glancing at him and then away.

Warmth erupted in Shouyou’s face, and he forgot all about his resentment. _What?_ Kageyama had greeted him casually, just like that, even though he’d been _Hinata_ at practice this week.

His stomach felt funny. “Tobio,” he said back in acknowledgement, as if he wasn’t fidgeting and blushing. Natsu took in the exchange mutely, looking from Kageyama’s face to his before smiling in a confused sort of way.

“You can put me down now,” she said, and Kageyama did so, gently. She took his hand and held out the other for Shouyou.

“He’s _my_ boyfriend, you know,” Shouyou whispered to her.

“I know,” she said, skipping up the stairs and not seeming in any hurry to let Shouyou walk in the middle. Shouyou bristled. Why couldn’t he have a cool older sister like Tanaka did? _She_ wouldn’t do stuff like this. His resentment grew as Natsu forced them to get her amazake, and mochi, and insisted Shouyou hold the useless little purse she’d brought while she tried to consume the amazake and mochi at the same time, ending up a sticky mess. He stopped scowling, though, when he realized Kageyama was smiling—not just at Natsu, but at everything.

It was a way nicer smile than Shouyou was used to seeing on him.

The smile disappeared when their eyes met, and a gloved hand came up to cover his mouth. “What?” he asked.

Shouyou shook himself. “You were smiling like a normal person.”

Kageyama’s eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out what this new brand of insult meant. Shouyou looked away.

“It was a nice smile, I mean.”

“Oh.”

“Nii-chan,” Natsu said, and they both turned. “Those people are waving.”

Shouyou looked up to see several people from the team—the third years and Tanaka and Nishinoya—all bundled up in their winter clothes and looking back at them. A bubble of laughter erupted in Shouyou’s belly at the sight of Sugawara. During practice two days ago, Tanaka and Nishinoya had tried to figure out who’d given what at the gift exchange, wanting to find out who’d gifted the notorious pasta, and—after a whole afternoon of piecing things together—they’d turned to Sugawara in utter disbelief.

When Sugawara saw Tanaka and Nishinoya looking at him that way, he’d lost it, laughing so hard that he collapsed right on the parquet floor, clutching his stomach. Daichi had to help him over to the side of the court, and he’d scolded Tanaka and Nishinoya for “disrupting practice”, even though clearly Sugawara was the one still howling and distracting everyone. They hadn’t argued with the captain, though.

Shouyou still couldn’t believe it was his most attentive, caring senpai who’d bought that lewd gift—but then again, Sugawara had a mischievous side that included imitating his own mother on the phone, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Daichi hadn’t been.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Sugawara said, when Shouyou’s group walked over. Shouyou introduced them all to Natsu, and Natsu glowed under the attention, surprisingly taken with Tanaka’s blustery attitude.

“Is everyone here?” Kageyama asked.

“It wasn’t planned,” Daichi said. “I should have picked a shrine further away… we ran into Asahi first thing.”

Asahi held up his hands. “Hey, now…”

“Who were you with?” Shouyou asked Asahi, wondering if maybe he’d been on a date—but Asahi nodded to a group near where they’d gotten mochi for Natsu. There was a tall girl there who looked remarkably like Asahi, and she was leaning on what had to be her mother. He’d come with his family, then—they were _all_ tall.

“Ryuu and I are here to pray for victory,” Nishinoya said, grinning. “I brought lots of coins.”

“Us too,” Shouyou said quickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious—until he remembered that everyone already knew they were dating, and it wasn’t at all strange to go to the shrine on a date. Kageyama raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Shouyou mumbled defensively.

“I thought you’d be praying for height or something.”

There was a snort of laughter from Tanaka. “Kageyama-kun! That’s not how you talk to the person you like!”

Kageyama blinked up him, as if he was only just realizing his assumption might be seen as insulting. Eventually, though, he just looked confused. “But it’s true—”

He cut off when Shouyou kicked him, and shrugged.

“It’s almost midnight,” Sugawara said. “We should stand close to the front so we can get our prayers in early.”

“Are you in a hurry?” Daichi asked.

“Hm—maybe I just want my prayers to be at the front of the queue.” He grinned at them. “Let’s go.”

They moved up to the square in front of the steps up to the offertory box and stood, waiting, stamping their feet against the cold. When the bell rang for midnight, the line started moving, and soon it was Shouyou’s turn to throw a coin into the box. He did so, before bowing and clapping.

 _Let us win nationals_ , he thought furiously, his eyes screwed shut. _With Sugawara-senpai and the others. Let them win nationals with us. I want to stand on the court until the end._

He bowed over his folded hands, then got out of the way with Natsu. Kageyama followed a moment later, looking serious.

“Do I have to ask what you two prayed for?” Sugawara asked, when he saw their faces.

Shouyou blinked at his tone of voice. Did he think he and Kageyama had wished for lovey-dovey things? In hindsight, he could have—but the thought hadn’t even surfaced in his mind. Kageyama looked similarly blank.

“Never mind,” Sugawara said, laughing a little. They moved on to get their fortunes when the rest of the group joined them.

Once they were at the front of the queue, Shouyou helped Natsu get her fortune before he grabbed his own, stuttering in indignation when he heard that he’d helped her get dai-kichi, the greatest blessing. _His_ fortune happened to be the worst one possible.

“This is horrible!” he said. “It says I’m going to be sick lots.”

“Me, too,” Asahi said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well—I’ll have a cold. And I’ll get robbed.”

Nishinoya laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’ll be sure to steal something from you then. So someone else doesn’t.”

“Thanks,” Asahi said uncertainly, and Sugawara smothered a laugh.

“It says I’m going to be rich,” Natsu said, grinning and holding her fortune up in Shouyou’s face.

“What do you need money for? You’re seven! Give me that one—”

Sugawara stopped Shouyou from taking his sister’s fortune, though, tutting and pushing him into Kageyama. “Go tie up your bad fortune, then. Maybe over there?”

He pointed at a pine tree a little way down the path, and Shouyou realized this was their one chance to be alone for a bit—the area was shadowed, the lights from the shrine not quite reaching it. He dragged Kageyama along, looking back to see Tanaka exclaim over a good fortune and compare it to Natsu’s, making her giggle. She didn’t seem to notice they were leaving.

Kageyama was trying to pull back, though.

“I don’t want to tie mine up,” he said.

“Stupid! Help me tie mine up then. Unless you want me to be sick all year?”

“No…”

“How good was yours, then?”

“Small blessing. But it says I’ll get what I want.”

Shouyou hoped some of Kageyama’s good fortune would transfer to him; most of the time they wanted the same things, anyway. “Here, tie mine up high so no one can remove it.”

Kageyama snorted and took his gloves off to do as he was told, stretching up to reach a high branch and tie the fortune around it. When he was done, Shouyou pulled at his collar, pressing their mouths together. Kageyama twitched in surprise then went still, his lips relaxing against Shouyou’s.

“Happy new year,” Shouyou said when they drew apart, his breath puffing out whitely. Kageyama darted a glance around; no one was near, though there _were_ familiar faces from school at the shrine. There was a strange expression on his face.

When he moved, it was too fast for Shouyou to see. He gasped against Kageyama’s mouth when Kageyama leaned down of his own accord, his hand sliding along Shouyou’s jaw to tip his head up, his mouth opening against Shouyou’s to deliver a deep, lingering kiss that turned Shouyou’s knees to jelly and made his heart race under his thick coat. He rose up onto his toes, grabbing onto his tall boyfriend for support. Kageyama’s fingers were creeping into his hair.

“Um, g-guys…”

They sprang apart. Asahi stood blocking the light, with his hands on his hips. The posture didn’t look right on him, and when Shouyou glanced past him he saw why: a group seemed to have noticed them and were sneaking glances. Asahi had been trying to block the view.

“Ah—sorry! Thanks for… blocking…”

“Um, I was here to tie my fortune up anyway… it’s nothing…”

Asahi shuffled over to the tree, tying up his fortune while Shouyou and Kageyama waited for the group that had spotted them to move on. When Asahi was done, they walked back to join their team members together, and Sugawara suggested drinking amazake before they left. Everyone went along, even though Nishinoya complained that he didn’t like the taste.

“I sort of wish we’d invited everyone,” Daichi said, when everyone was clutching a steaming cup. “Feels like we left people out.”

“We can come here again before the spring tournament,” Sugawara said.

Nishinoya bounced on the balls of his feet. “Or after, to give thanks for our victory!”

“Careful,” Daichi said. “The gods will strike you down for overconfidence.”

Shouyou looked down into his cup, feeling the warmth from the sweet rice drink spread through his body. There were people missing, but they were here as a team. After the spring tournament was over, what would they be? He looked up, suddenly distraught.

“We’ll always be a team, right?”

“What?” Daichi said, wide-eyed. He seemed surprised at Shouyou’s sudden outburst.

Sugawara stepped in immediately. “Of course,” he said, ruffling Shouyou’s hair. “And you’ll always be our precious kouhai.”

“Okay, then.”

The conversation turned to other things, and soon they were throwing away their paper cups and walking towards the exit. Tanaka carried a sleepy Natsu, and Shouyou hoped she’d wake up enough for the bicycle ride home; she’d have to be awake to hold onto him.

He wasn’t really thinking about Natsu, though. He let the group get ahead, still pondering being on the team and what the coming year would look like. Kageyama looked at him curiously when he stopped at the top of the steps, a few feet from the large gate that marked the entrance to the shrine.

“Something wrong?” Kageyama asked.

Shouyou shook his head. “I want to keep being on the team, and playing volleyball. I don’t want anyone to graduate.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not really possible.”

“We’re going to graduate, too, you know.”

Kageyama stuck his hands into his pockets. “I know.”

“Aren’t you worried about that?” Shouyou asked, knowing it was stupid to worry about something so far in the future.

“You’re going to keep up with me, right? Even if it’s at the world level. You promised, so I won’t worry.”

Shouyou’s mouth tightened, and his hands clenched into fists. “Right!” he said, feeling the familiar burn of resolve in his chest. He’d already sworn he would hound Kageyama until he beat him—not _until graduation_ or _until it stops being convenient_ ; he’d just have to adjust his goals if he ever did win from his rival-turned-lover.

Kageyama smiled—that nice smile, again, the one that made Shouyou worry other people were going to fall in love with him—and reached out to pat Shouyou’s head.

“I’m not going to let you beat me, dumbass.”

“What?!” There Shouyou was thinking nice things about Kageyama, and he went and said something like that. Shouyou narrowed his eyes, and a moment later he was running down the steps. “It’s not a question of let!” he yelled, hearing Kageyama make a sound of indignation and start to run, too, trying to race him to the bottom. Sugawara called at them to stop running, but Shouyou just zoomed past the group, finding that he wanted to run farther than just the bottom of the steps.

His lungs burned as he ran, the cold air stinging, but he couldn’t quite stop smiling—not even when Kageyama caught up with him and proclaimed that he’d won, even though they’d tied; not even when Kageyama smushed his face into the front of his coat and pulled at his hair in the old iron grip, scolding him.

Especially not then.


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again...
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this (long-awaited, oops) epilogue. I want to thank everyone who's commented here or sent me nice messages on tumblr or had long conversations with me on skype encouraging me--and the people who have drawn fanart or included this fic on rec lists--just everyone who's made this into the ride it was. You're the reason this got as long as it did. (Which... is hopefully a good thing? This was just supposed to be a dump for my kagehina feelings, how did it get almost as long as the Philosopher's Stone?)
> 
> Even more wonderful fanart:
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/102970809967
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/102019733017/patricyaya-ok-kids-heres-a-thing-go-and-read
> 
> http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/101475046782/stardustedcanvas-doodle-dump-because-powers
> 
> AND--I'm sure some of you have seen already--my friend Nana is actually drawing this as a doujin. AHH. You can read it here: 
> 
> http://likethewayourclothesmell.tumblr.com/
> 
> (It's going to be especially fun once we get to converting Kageyama's internal monologues to thought bubbles. I can't wait. how did a lowly writer who can't draw two lines together ever get to contribute to something so beautiful ;-;)
> 
> Okay, novel-length chapter notes over! On with the epilogue. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

“They look fine,” his mother said, examining the cakes. “They’re… a little lopsided. But they look fine.”

Tobio frowned. He imagined giving the cakes to Shouyou and having him wrinkle his nose. _These are all lopsided_ , he imagined Shouyou saying. _Did you even try?_

He _had_ tried. These lopsided mini lava cakes were a second attempt, with his mother’s supervision. She kept kissing his forehead and smiling in a soft, proud way that embarrassed him, so it hadn’t been easy.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, for maybe the thousandth time. His shoulders crept higher.

“You don’t have to say that over and over,” he mumbled.

“It’s so hard not to! And your dad will be proud too. He can taste one, can’t he? One of the wonky ones.”

Tobio nodded, his body feeling a little stiff. His father had accepted his relationship with Shouyou, but things were still pretty awkward between them. He’d never had a talent for speaking to his father in the first place, and it had been mutual; now there was just a little bit more distance than before.

His mother insisted it wasn’t a _bad_ distance. She said it was because his father was an idiot who never knew what to say, which was something Tobio could relate to—the not knowing what to say part, anyway.

“Okay,” his mother said, leaning flour-whitened hands against the countertop. “Are these good enough, or do they have to be perfect?”

“They’re good enough,” he said. He couldn’t handle the thought of his mother pressing kisses to his forehead and saying how proud she was for another hour. If Shouyou made a fuss about their irregular shapes, he’d just pull his hair and yell at him.

It was a good plan.

 

 

                                                                                                      

The next morning didn’t go as expected.

There was no morning practice in light of nationals being over—they didn’t practice _every_ morning now, though Shouyou talked him into spiking practice on their off days more often than not—and when Tobio got to school he was ambushed by a small brown-haired girl wanting to talk to him alone before he could even spot Shouyou among the students.

He kicked himself mentally for not arranging to meet Shouyou before class. The girl pulled him aside, to a little courtyard.

“I’d like to get to know you,” she said after a rushed confession, holding out a colorful box, and he’d already forgotten her name and what class she was from. He knew he was stone-faced, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Did he accept the chocolates? Did he decline them outright? He’d just spent ages on the ones he made for Shouyou; it seemed really unfair either way, since he couldn’t return her feelings.

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, and wasn’t quite prepared for her to thrust the small, ribbon-wrapped box into his hands and run off. He stared after, wondering if he’d done it wrong.

“Kageyama!” someone walking up to the school yelled, and he spotted Sugawara in the crowd of students. He walked back out of the courtyard, relieved to see a friendly face.

“Did I just see you reject someone?” Sugawara asked once he was close.

Tobio nodded jerkily. “I think I did it wrong. How are you supposed to say no?”

“Hmm… I think it’s good to assess how serious the girl is. Some, it’s a shot in the dark. Others…”

Tobio swallowed.

“Well, there’s no nice way to reject someone, is there? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Sugawara clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, and Tobio stared after. _Figure it out?_ He didn’t even know how to talk to girls who weren’t Natsu or into volleyball, let alone girls trying to confess to him.

And where was Shouyou?

There was another confession at the lockers, to the side—this girl giggled and turned red, which was a weird reaction to rejection—and Tobio resolved not to be caught alone again. He hid in the boy’s toilet when he saw another girl approach him purposefully on his way to class, and didn’t emerge until the bell went, the chocolate cakes he’d made yesterday heavy in his bag. He’d failed at Valentine’s Day so far; they hadn’t talked about this since that first day last October, when Shouyou came over to play video games, but he’d been able to tell Shouyou was excited this week, or at least more excited than usual. If Tobio didn’t manage this it would just be another reason Shouyou would be better off with a girl.

He glared all the way through math class.

“Shouyou!” he shouted when it was finally break and he saw his prey—no, boyfriend, still boyfriend, not prey—in the hallway, talking with classmates. Shouyou turned and jumped a little at his expression.

“What?” Shouyou asked, his shoulders high.

“What do you mean _what_?”

“Why do you look like you’re going to kill me?”

Tobio blinked. Wasn’t he _expecting_ to get chocolate? Wasn’t it obvious what Tobio was trying to do—what he didn’t quite have the courage to do in front of Shouyou’s friends, whose names and faces were still a blur in his mind?

“Lunch,” he said.

Shouyou’s classmates eyed him warily, looking like they might want to step in. Tobio blinked at them. Shouyou must have recognized his dumbfounded expression because he started dragging Tobio away, waving a casual goodbye at his friends.

“Outside,” Tobio mumbled, looking out over the heads of his classmates, many of them looking skittish or excited. He spotted the girl who’d tried to approach him earlier, and increased his pace; when he saw Shouyou was following, he flat-out ran, pausing only to put on outdoor shoes. After that he didn’t stop until they were around the back of the gym, out of sight of the school. Shouyou bent double, catching his breath.

“That doesn’t count as a win because I didn’t know where we were going.”

Tobio pursed his lips. “I wasn’t trying to win. I was trying to get away. Girls keep confessing to me.”

Shouyou unbent to glare at him. “Oh, how _horrible_. Must be so hard to be liked—”

“It is horrible!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shouyou said, as Tobio rooted for the box of cakes in his bag. It was a little battered at the edges, but still in one piece; he thrust it out at Shouyou.

Shouyou stared. “What’s that?”

“Valentine’s chocolate.”

There was another moment of silence—something that almost looked like pleasure flickered over Shouyou’s face—and then:

“You’re supposed to say something!” he said, before gesturing and pitching his voice high like a girl’s. “Hinata-kun, I like you, please go out with me!”

A flush crept up Tobio’s neck. “That’s for people who aren’t together yet!”

Shouyou’s lips pressed together in a pout.

“Fine, fine!” Tobio said. “Dumbass-kun, I like you, please continue going out with me.”

Shouyou laughed, the serious expression disappearing as he grabbed the box from Tobio’s hands. Cold February wind ruffled his hair, but his face was all sunshine, his grin wide as he plopped down onto the grass to open the box, heedless of the slight damp that was sure to make his uniform muddy.

“ _Wow_ ,” he said when he looked inside, not seeming to notice the lopsidedness of the cakes. He ate half of one in a bite and stared up, saying something that sounded like _good_ through his mouthful.

“Chew, dumbass!”

“Thee a’ amazing!”

Tobio sat down too, very fast. He wanted to say something disparaging but his mind was a blank; all he could see was the clear delight on Shouyou’s face, even if he looked stupid with chocolate sauce bracketing his mouth, getting worse as he stuffed another cake in his face.

It felt weird to like someone this much—even being allowed to like someone this much. It was still a little scary, and now and then he was afraid it might slip through his fingers, but every time they were on the court together it was like the ground steadied beneath him.

They were a team.

“Why are you looking like that?” Shouyou asked, his head tilting to the side—a curious bird with a chocolate beak. Tobio grabbed his head and pushed it down, embarrassed.

“Wipe your mouth at least!”

“You wipe it!”

Shouyou launched himself forward, bowling Tobio over onto the damp grass. He rubbed his face against Tobio’s, spreading the mess, hands warm through the front of Tobio’s uniform. Tobio managed to fend him off enough to plant his hands on either side of Shouyou’s face, his thumbs and index fingers keeping him at a distance.

Shouyou was grinning, the chocolate smeared; Tobio had to look away.

“You like me,” Shouyou said.

“Obviously.”

“I like you, too.”

Tobio felt like he might sink into the soil. What was he supposed to say to that? “Good.”

Shouyou snorted and sat up, not seeming to notice he was half straddling him, his eyes falling back on the box of cakes. “I’m going to have another—”

Tobio caught his arm before he could reach. “Eat your lunch.”

“After.”

“Before.”

“ _Fine_.”

Tobio let go, and Shouyou got up. He picked up his bag and began eating—resentfully, casting longing glances at the box of cakes. Tobio pulled out his lunch, too, despite the fact that it was way too cold to be eating outside. His butt was cold and damp from the grass.

“So who was it that confessed to you?” Shouyou asked between bites.

“I don’t know.”

“At all?”

“I think one of them might have been in my class?”

Shouyou laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

“I never said I was good at this stuff!”

“Don’t tell Noya-san or Tanaka-san that people confessed to you and you forgot who they were.”

“I wasn’t planning to. Sugawara-san saw me, though.”

Shouyou’s hand holding the chopsticks lowered to his lunchbox thoughtfully, and he got a weird look in his eyes. “I wonder if the others are getting confessions?”

“What does it matter?”

Suddenly, Shouyou was packing his stuff back in his bag, beginning to run. “I want to see!”

“Shouyou! Wait—” Tobio huffed, cramming his lunchbox into his backpack and running after Shouyou, back into the busy school.

“I don’t care about Tsukishima getting confessions, but I want to see if Tanaka-san does,” Shouyou said, bending over to put his indoor shoes on again. “Or the others!”

“Why would Tsukishima get confessions?”

Shouyou shrugged. “Because he’s tall?” He started to walk up the stairs, but halted when a feminine voice shouted _Hinata-kun_.

Tobio looked around, expecting to see Yachi or Kiyoko—but it was neither one of them. Instead it was a girl he didn’t recognize, slightly taller than Shouyou with long black hair. He felt his stomach clench, even though Shouyou just looked surprised.

“Yes?” Shouyou said, standing on the bottom step.

“Um,” the girl said, stopping next to Tobio. She was stalwartly ignoring him, looking only at Shouyou. “I, um…”

Tobio wondered if he ought to move away, but the girl still didn’t seem aware of him. She conjured a box from her skirt— _that skirt has pockets?_ —and held it out with both hands, bowing slightly. “Please accept—!”

“Accept?” Shouyou said, looking dumbfounded.

“My feelings,” she said breathlessly.

Tobio definitely should have moved away. He felt a weight in his stomach, knowing how much Shouyou would love being confessed to—except Shouyou still wasn’t smiling.

“Oh,” he said.

“I saw you at nationals,” the girl squeaked, her bravery seeming to fade in the face of his continued confusion.

Tobio was prepared for Shouyou to smile, then—he loved it when people were impressed with his volleyball skills—but instead Shouyou bowed, his hands stiff at his sides.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted. “I’m already dating someone I like very much!”

Tobio flushed, even as the girl’s face fell.

“O-oh!” she said. “I’m sorry!”

They faced each other, both looking like they’d forgotten how to breathe, and after a murmured excuse the girl dipped her head and left, looking supremely embarrassed. Shouyou stared after her.

“Did you see that?” he asked, as if Tobio could have missed it.

“Why aren’t you happier?”

“I don’t know,” Shouyou said, blinking. “I guess it’s not as great as I thought after all. I can’t believe someone actually confessed to me.”

“That’s stupid,” Tobio said, because it was. He knew people were shortsighted and superficial, but anyone who’d seen Shouyou on the court would know how amazing he was; he’d known that even when he hadn’t wanted to admit to it. “Of course people are going to confess to you.”

More and more people would; he hoped the answer would stay the same.

They both jumped when the bell went. “Oh!” Shouyou said.

Tobio raised an eyebrow. Where had his thoughts wound up now?

“I’ll see you after class! Wait for me, okay?”

_I always wait for you_ , he was about to say, but Shouyou was already running. Tobio managed to walk back to class at a sedate pace, wondering what had made Shouyou hurry like that.

 

 

 

The wind had died down some by the time they left school, the world bathed in the heatless, low-angled light of late winter. Yesterday it had rained all day, but today the few clouds that there were were speared through with gold.

Shouyou was rooting around in his bag after asking Tobio to hold his bike.

“What are you looking for?” Tobio asked.

“This!” Shouyou said, holding up a piece of paper drawn on with colored pencils and folded into the shape of a box. “Ta-dah. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“What?” Tobio took the thing, finding its weight uneven. Shouyou took the bike back.

“Kageyama-kun, I like you, please go out with me,” he said seriously—before laughing. Tobio snorted.

“What is this?” he asked, opening the top of the folded box. Inside were two energy bars, their packaging the worse for wear.

“These are the energy bars you keep in your schoolbag,” Tobio said. He knew because Shouyou always selectively ate other people’s food—usually his—rather than eating his own emergency supply.

“You don’t have to actually eat them,” Shouyou said. “I just wanted to give you something.”

Tobio took out the energy bars and examined the box—it had _best setter award_ written on the side, along with drawings of tanukis and volleyballs. He found himself fighting a smile. “Thanks.”

“There they are!” someone ahead shouted, and Tobio looked up. The team was there, standing outside Ukai’s shop.

“I _told_ you they wouldn’t be having a romantic candlelit dinner,” Nishinoya said to Asahi, who rubbed the back of his head. “It’s way too early in the day.”

“Why are you all here on Valentine’s Day?” Shouyou asked, his eyes bright. He ran forward to join the group, bike rattling.

“Good question,” Daichi said, earning a shove from Sugawara.

“We got chocolates!” Nishinoya and Tanaka said at the same time, then: “From Yacchan.”

Yachi held up her hands in front of her. “It was nothing!”

“Yeah, because the rest of the team got them too, and they were obligation chocolate,” Tsukishima said disparagingly.

“I couldn’t find you two during lunch,” Yachi explained, holding out two boxes. “Kiyoko-san helped make them.”

Tobio saw Nishinoya and Tanaka’s eyes close in bliss; so _that_ was why they were so happy.

“They’re not from me,” Shimizu said sternly, her eyes on her two swains. It sounded like she’d chewed them out for something already.

“We were about to get meat buns,” Sugawara said to Shouyou and Tobio. “Oh! But don’t let us interrupt your date!”

He laughed when he saw their expressions.

“Just kidding,” he said.                                                                                                    

“Meat buns, meat buns,” Shouyou started chanting, and Tobio stuffed the energy bars in his pocket before carefully unfolding the box they’d come in and putting it in his bag; he didn’t want it to get greasy.

Nishinoya and Tanaka joined in the meat bun chant, and Tobio couldn’t help wondering why they were so happy if all they got were obligation chocolates. He knew they’d been hoping for more, making bets on it, and it didn’t sound like they’d gotten chocolate from anyone else. Tanaka paused in his chant when he saw the way Tobio was looking at him.

“What?” Tanaka asked.

“Weren’t you hoping you’d get confessed to?” Tobio asked.

Tanaka laughed, smacking him on the back. “You’re getting better, Kageyama! Wow, I’m impressed!”

He blinked in confusion.

“It’s nice of you to worry, but there’s a silver lining here! Can you see it?”

Tobio thought of the kinds of things Sugawara would say. “The team’s all here together?” he guessed—but maybe Tanaka was more like Shouyou. “We’re getting meat buns?”

Tanaka grinned, holding up a finger. “Excellent guesses, but no. Where is Kiyoko-san?”

“Here,” Tobio said.

“And where is she not?”

“Everywhere else?”

“Exactly! If she’s here, she’s not out confessing to someone else!”

Sugawara drew Tobio away from Tanaka. “Don’t think about it too long, you’ll get depressed.”

“Hey, it’s a good thing!” Tanaka said staunchly.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Sugawara said, smiling pityingly. He drew Tobio out of earshot from the group. “I hear Hinata got confessed to,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Tobio said.

“And what did you think?”

“That it was to be expected?” he tried, wondering why all his senpai were suddenly expecting him to know the right answers to things.

“I mean, how did you like his answer? Did it satisfy you?”

Tobio didn’t say anything, because it’d probably just be wrong again.

“You’re always worried, aren’t you? That he’ll want someone else? Aren’t you a little happier now?”

It was unusual for Sugawara to be this pushy, so Tobio attempted an answer. “Maybe,” he said, seeing Shouyou bow to the girl in his mind’s eye, his posture stiff, not his usual self at all—even though he’d said on multiple occasions that he wanted to be confessed to. It was comforting, a bit, but not his sole point of comfort.

“I think—” he started, spurred on by Sugawara’s encouraging nods. He checked to make sure Shouyou was still out of earshot. “As long as we have volleyball, I won’t worry.”

“I see,” Sugawara said, though his smile was a little tempered. “Ah, well. Maybe one day it’ll be _as long as we’re together, I won’t worry_ instead of _as long as we have volleyball_.”

Tobio wondered about that; functionally, weren’t they the same?

“Meat buns!” Shouyou shouted at that moment, jumping to grab one of the brown paper bags from Daichi. Tobio’s talk with Sugawara was over; everyone crowded in to grab a bun before Shouyou had a chance to eat them all; they stuffed their faces, talking about the day’s events between bites. None of them moved to go, and eventually Daichi sighed and said they could have another round of meat buns if they all promised to leave after. He was smiling, though.

It was nearly sunset by the time they all separated, and Shouyou insisted on walking Tobio home, though they didn’t speak. There was a light feeling in Tobio’s chest as he walked next to Shouyou, his hands in his pockets, clouds moving fast in the sky above him. Shouyou was smiling an unconscious smile, one Tobio wanted to kiss until it turned into laughter and _what are you doing_? He glanced around at the houses they were passing, wondering if it’d be okay to do it here.

“Did you hear about the first year girl who tried to give Tanaka-san chocolates?” Shouyou asked suddenly, looking up to meet Tobio’s gaze. The smile had widened.

“I heard.” There had been something about Tanaka staring so long the girl had apologized and left—but Tanaka’s continued hopelessness with girls was the furthest thing from Tobio’s mind right now. Shouyou looked even better like this, looking back at him, his cheeks flushed with the cold and his hair being ruffled by the wind. The setting sun was beginning to dye everything around them in orange hues—Shouyou’s color.

“What’s with you?” Shouyou asked, his eyebrows rising.

“Nothing.” Tobio ducked his head away, stuffed his hands further in his pockets. _Maybe one day it’ll be as long as we’re together, I won’t worry_ , he heard Sugawara say in his mind. He wasn’t worried. He glanced at Shouyou again, feeling a jolt to find him still looking back, with questions in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “What?”

“You’re thinking weird stuff again, aren’t you?” Shouyou asked.

“Am not.”

“What did Suga-san say to you?”

Shouyou’s random bouts of insightfulness could really be a problem sometimes. “Not a lot. Just asked me how I was feeling after you got confessed to.”

“And? How are you feeling?”

_Good._ He was feeling good—and somehow he found himself saying, “As long as we’re together, I won’t worry.”

Shouyou’s eyebrows screwed together in confusion, and then he laughed. “Weirdo! That goes without saying, doesn’t it?”

And Tobio found himself smiling back—at a world dyed orange, at Shouyou with cheeks flushed pink with cold, at his own insecurities that ebbed and flowed only to be struck to pieces by a certain orange-haired boy, with the same force he’d use to spike a toss. _That goes without saying_.

“I guess it does,” he said, pushing back when Shouyou nudged him, then again when Shouyou tried to push him over in earnest, laughing and coming dangerously close to dropping his bike.

Tobio couldn’t help feeling he was exactly where he needed to be.


End file.
